The Night of the Lethal Horse
by LeeLee Rob
Summary: Jim barely survives a terrible solo mission only to fall into another bad scenario without Artie. Jim openly admits how much he needs his partner, but will Artie arrive in time to bail Jim out? Can Artie, ready to retire and settle down with Lily, figure out how to help Jim heal or protect Jim when he's retired? COMPLETE.
1. Aimless and Artie-less Wandering

**The Night of the Lethal Horse**

Note: This story has 16 chapters. The story ends without any kind of cliffhanger in Chapter 16. That said, I've teased a sequel in Chapter 17. Why the note? The sequel involves characters from another show from the same time period in a natural evolution. The story remains Wild Wild West centric despite the guest appearances of those characters. But if you don't like that kind of meandering, stop at Chapter 16!

Chapter 1 - Aimless and Artie-less Wandering

The Wanderer chugged slowly into the Freehold train station detouring from the planned route. Fortunately, Jim wasn't in a hurry. Artie was stuck in DC waiting to testify in a counterfeiting trial five days after Jim's testimony had concluded. Jim had offered to stick around to wait, but Artie knew Jim was restless to leave the city and its politics. Both were weeks overdue for a vacation. Artie sucked up his jealously that he couldn't go with Jim and suggested Jim start his leave early — so long as Jim promised not to exhaust all the wine, women and song in New York City before he could join him. Jim agreed to do his best.

Three days after Jim left DC, the train — having encountered numerous track delays — was finally nearing the New York border. Then an axle on the varnish car broke. Jim and Orrin managed to stabilize it enough to get the train someplace repairs could be done quickly, or so they hoped. Monmouth County wasn't a booming metropolis, but it wasn't Palookaville either. Unfortunately, the station manager at Monmouth Junction directed them to a siding off the adjacent Freehold & Jamesburg line, sending them further off course.

As soon as the train limped into Freehold, Jim gave Orrin with a letter of credit and authority to deal with repairs and left the listing varnish car. Jim's sole goal was to find a decent meal. It should have been a half day's journey to New York on the Wanderer, so Jim hadn't laid in provisions beyond lunch. Then, as luck would have it, none of the track delays occurred close to towns. The pantry contained little more than canned beans and jerky. Jim picked at these, but he had recently lost his taste for both, leaving him hungry and grumpy.

Jim walked to the station proper to get his bearings on the town of Freehold. He was surprised to see so many people in the streets and well-heeled looking ones at that. He remembered that Freehold had been the site of a notable battle in the Revolutionary War, but knew little more. A quick check at the train station informed him that a major horse sale was going on this week. He knew there were horse breeders in the area, and knew horses well enough, but on a government salary, Jim was fortunate to have the prize American Quarter Horse he did own. General Grant had initially owned the horse, but finding him full of "piss and vinegar," he made a personal gift of the stallion to Jim West. Grant had no time for such an obstinate horse and besides, as he told Jim, something about the horse reminded him of his former aide-de-camp, Captain James West. While Jim had no intention of replacing his horse anytime soon, he found the idea of looking at high quality horseflesh a surprisingly appealing diversion at the time.

He headed to the town's large hotel, the American Hotel, for lunch only to be told he'd need to leave his gun at the sheriff's office before entering the saloon. As for a room, forget it. There wasn't one left to be had in town according to the hotel clerk.

Hunger and annoyance gnawing at him — compounded by a grueling couple of months' activity prior — Jim marched on down to the Sheriff's office. He found the sheriff at his desk, head down, slurping up stew from a spoon.

"Afternoon, Sheriff. I heard that I need to leave my gun here before dining at the hotel." Jim held it by the muzzle and placed it on the table.

The sheriff obligingly put down his spoon and looked up. "Captain West?"

"Yes." Jim stared for a second or two before it registered. "Lieutenant Mutter?"

The Sheriff hastily leapt up with his hand extended. "So good to see you, Captain."

"It's just Jim now, Ollie. The war is long over, thankfully."

"Still, it's good to see you. What brings you to our little borough? The horse sale?"

"Not exactly. I was on my way to New York when I experienced some transportation difficulties."

"So the horse sale might just be a fortunate coincidence after all?"

"Not exactly. I came in by train."

"Are you telling me that that little number that just limped in and parked off the siding is yours?"

"Not mine. A good friend lets me use it."

"Nice company you keep!"

"Oh, there are plenty of strings attached, I assure you."

"So what are you up to these days?"

"A little of this and that."

"Sounds suspiciously like the old days to me."

"Nothing so gruesome, I assure you. Right now, I'd just like a decent meal."

"No personal chef on the private train?"

"No, not this trip," Jim winked.

"I wish I could join you, but I've got no relief here until dinner. How about we get together then?"

"We could, but as of now, I don't even have a place to stay. I hear the town is packed."

"I'd offer you a couch at my house, but truth is that it's rented out for the whole week. My wife is visiting her sister in Monmouth and I've been bunking on a cot in an empty cell. My worry is the cells fill up the next night or two and I'll have no place to sleep either."

"Worse comes to worst, I can sleep on a slant in the varnish car. I've certainly . . . well, I don't have to tell you."

"Slept in worse, you mean? I shudder to remember. Listen, go get lunch and come back. Maybe I'll come up with an idea for a place for you to spend the night."

"I'll do that."

Jim arrived as the lunch crowd was thinning, although the tables remained quite full with folks talking and drinking. He enjoyed a good clam chowder followed by a bouillabaisse. Fresh seafood was a boon he hadn't expected on this trip and he was delighted by it. Before Washington DC, he'd been tracking that monster Jake Criolla through the Badlands. Jim ate ferrets, snakes and anything else he could catch supplemented by the meager supply of canned beans and jerky he'd packed. Since leaving South Dakota, Jim had craved fish, fresh fruit and vegetables.

Jim craved good company too, but he couldn't quite get in a mindset yet to randomly socialize. He worried that he might not even be able to for a while. If only he'd had a chance to talk to Artie in person in DC when he finally returned from South Dakota. But by the time Jim arrived in town, the judge — wanting to forestall any efforts by the high powered defense attorney to seize upon a mistrial — ordered sequestration of the witnesses. Only because the judge knew Artie and Jim were they permitted to communicate for the five minutes they did in the presence of the judge.

Jim finished off lunch with a whiskey. It was pleasantly smooth and a second was tempting, but without firm plans for a place to spend the night, Jim passed. He headed back to see Sheriff Mutter. Good old Ollie Mutter, Jim thought, a man who'd proven his mettle when tested in battle, a man whose good instincts had saved an entire company from near certain death.

"Jim, come in. As you can see, my fear is coming true. My temporary abode begins to fill with drunks and disorderlies. Perhaps we should pitch a tent together tonight?"

"I'd rather sleep standing against a wall than camp out again."

"Bad experience recently?"

"Too much camping, that's all." Jim was a little surprised he'd admitted as much as he had. He really was in need of a vacation.

"Look, I know where you could bunk in a nice warm house a ways out of town and see some of the finest horseflesh you've ever seen, but . . . uh . . . the recommendation comes with some hesitation."

"Tell me more."

Ollie pushed Jim's gun back toward him along with a letter. "It's an authorization for you to carry while in town."

"Mighty generous of you, thanks."

"Well, it vaguely ties in to what I'm about to discuss with you. Jim, I need you to be straight with me before I say more. Your friend with the train, is he a government man by any chance?"

"You could say that."

Ollie smiled. "I didn't see you selling bonds on Wall Street. So you're a federal agent now?"

"Is this just between old friends?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"Yes, I report directly to the President."

"Good for you! You ever see or hear from folks we served with?"

"Sometimes. People have scattered."

"How about Robert Foley?"

Jim shook his head. "Not a happy ending. Survived the amputation, but died from infection two years later."

"How about that clown who kept us in stitches with his theatrics, Gordon?"

"That clown is my partner and a damn fine one too."

"Artemus Gordon and you work together?"

"He's the brains. I'm the brawn."

"I'm not buying that, well, maybe a little."

"Let's just say that there was a time when I worked alone and I wasn't half as good as we are working together."

"He's not here with you, though?"

"No, he's stuck in DC waiting to testify at a trial. Artie's methods are more subtle than mine, so when cases go to trial, he usually ends up on the stand longer than me. That's certainly one thing I don't mind. Artie, well, he loves to tell a good story to a crowd."

"I don't think I ever heard one from him that was the same twice!"

"No, which is why it's a good thing he only tells them once in court. So tell me, what's my line of work got to do with a room to let?"

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

"There's a woman, a fine woman if you ask me."

"I like how the story starts."


	2. The Lethal Horse

Chapter 2 - The Lethal Horse

"This woman and her father own a horse farm about six miles outside of town. The father is some sort of exiled European noble and all he wants to do is marry the daughter off to some other royalty and go back to Europe. He's off somewhere now looking for a new prospect. Another prospect."

"You make that sound ominous."

"It is. In the span of two years, three men have visited here to do whatever such people do — view the bride to be, get betrothed — some such nonsense. All three died."

"Foul play?"

"None that I could prove and no one I could arrest, unless I arrest a horse."

"Now you've hooked me. Go on."

"Kat, the daughter, breeds and trains horses. It's her passion and she's one of the best I've seen even up here in horse country, not that it's done her a damn bit of good. When your prize horse is involved with the death of three men, no one comes shopping."

"What happened?"

"The first man's death didn't seem like anything suspicious. The father, he brings home a fifty year old German codger to marry Kat. Kat tried to dissuade the German from riding Schumann, but once he heard the horse's name, he insisted. Schumann took off like a lightening bolt and the old man had a heart attack and died."

"Unfortunate, but not exactly suspicious. Artie always says if he has to ride my horse, that would be the likely result."

"No, the first death was just a source of gossip. The second marriage prospect was a younger man, in his late thirties, a Frenchman and a very unattractive one at that. He overdosed on this nauseating perfume to cover up congenital bad breath but it didn't work."

"Let me guess, the horse didn't like his cologne?"

"Apparently not. Again, Kat swears she discouraged this guy from riding Schumann — not that we have any other witnesses — but the officious prat insisted that he ride the stallion and she a mare. He said it would be unseemly for her to ride higher than him. She suggested another horse, but he wouldn't believe she could manage a horse that he couldn't."

"Let me guess? He threw him."

"Worse. Schumann ran the sucker headfirst into a tree limb. He died nearly instantly."

"You know, this would be sort of funny if you hadn't told me a third death is coming."

"The third one is the one that disturbs me. It was an Austrian this time. He was in his mid-forties, a very large man, degrading of Kat's ambitions and only interested in a silent decoration for his arm."

"I'm guessing that doesn't describe your lady friend?"

"Not a friend that way, Jim. I'm a married man now."

"You still have eyes."

"True, but it's just admiration for Kat. She's different. That's what makes her not accepted here. I've never seen her in anything other than pants. As for fussing with hair like my wife can do for hours, not happening. Horses are her whole life."

"And she has a horse that kills. What happened to the Austrian?"

"It wasn't a riding accident this time and there was a witness."

"Go on, I can't stand the suspense."

"This one didn't insist on riding Schumann. Kat told him about the horse not accepting other riders than her. Kat rode him. They went to picnic at a nearby lake. Her housekeeper, Nadja, was waiting there with a luncheon. The gentleman apparently did not understand what a picnic was. He was too refined to sit on a blanket on the ground and found the whole idea disdainful. As he paced by the lake, he apparently got too close for comfort to Schumann. Schumann swung his haunch into him and knocked him in the lake. The man panicked and flopped around, apparently unable to swim. Kat tried to haul him out, but she couldn't manage."

"And the housekeeper?"

"She didn't swim any better than the Austrian but knew better than to get close to water."

"You do know that a well-trained horse could be commanded to do the things Schumann did?"

"I know that, but how to go about proving it is another story."

"Do you want to prove it?"

Ollie raised his hands in a gesture of confusion. "Jim, maybe she did command the horse. I know that my title says I should care about the answer more than I do under the circumstances."

"Which are?"

"Kat is at end of a rope in more ways than I can count. They are out of money. Her father is unlikely to find a noble on the continent who would consider marrying her given what's happened, and if he did, you'd have to worry about what kind of person that might be. Given the deaths of those men by her horse, her farm is doomed, no matter how good she is at breeding and training. The locals won't let her bring any of her horses to the show grounds, and even if they did, they would whisper gossip that would kill any potential sale."

"So the room to let is at her house?"

"Yes."

"Well, given I'm not royalty or a good marriage prospect, I should be safe enough."

"Jim, she could use the cash, but I know you. You'll see that horse. You'll want to ride it. Promise me you won't or I won't even tell you how to get there."

"I'm sure I could get directions elsewhere."

"Jim, please!"

"Are you hoping that I discover something when I'm there?"

"I'm just trying to help two friends, but I didn't want to send you in blind. It's your choice. There are plenty of walls to sleep against in town."

"I'm too intrigued now not to go."

Ollie handed over a map he'd drawn. "Jim, one more thing. Things are tight at the farm, so meals might be austere. Plenty of locally grown fruits and vegetables, but not much meat."

"You don't know how happy I am to hear that. Is there a fishmonger in town?"

"Yes, a great one. Two blocks up and one west. Hey, keep in touch, and remember, no riding Schumann."

"Do I get a thumbs up on Mozart?"

"Yes, but I'd be careful on Salieri."

Jim chuckled, tipped his hat, and headed out.


	3. A Stable Mucking Countess

Chapter 3 - A Stable Mucking Countess

Jim enjoyed his ride to the farm. On this late summer day, the weather was idyllic. Mature trees, rolling green hills, wild berries bushes in full ripeness, and a gentle breeze soothed Jim's soul. It was everything the Badlands wasn't. As dusk began, Jim found the horse farm announced on a simple gate with an equally simple painted sign: "Romaine Farms". The farm was attractive, if a little run down. The fences could use a fresh coat of paint. The barn could stand a little repair, but Jim had never seen a farm that didn't need some tender loving care that no one had time to give. Anyway, the late afternoon sky was particularly forgiving of these lapses in care. As Jim passed the corral just outside the house, he knew immediately which horse was Schumann. And darned if Jim's horse didn't acknowledge Schumann's snort with one of his own.

Jim patted his black beauty. "No worries, boy. You're the only horse for me." His horse didn't seem all that interested, however, and pulled toward the corral instead of the house. Jim was assertive in correcting course and his horse complied with another snort. The house was a modest two story house, less than a mansion but more than a basic homestead. A fresh coat of paint was overdue here too. Before Jim could dismount, the front door opened. Two women stood in the doorway. The one in front was dressed in scullery clothes and physically blocked the second woman from exiting.

"Yes, can we help you?" The Russian accent was strong.

"Have you come to see my horses?" the other woman asked hopefully from behind. If she had an accent, Jim didn't notice it.

"Though I'm pleased to look, I'm not in the market. Sheriff Mutter is an old friend of mine. He suggested you might have a room to let for a few days and I am desperately in need. I brought some lovely fresh fish as a bribe."

"Damn!"

Jim was both surprised and amused at the younger woman's outburst.

"He cannot stay, Countess. There's no proper chaperone with your father gone and just you and me here."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, Nadja. If Sheriff Mutter sent him, then he's trustworthy enough for me."

The younger woman pushed through as Jim dismounted. Ollie's observations about her were dead on. Pants didn't do this woman a disservice at all. As to the rest, she was a natural beauty from top to bottom — one who obviously couldn't care less about it either.

The woman barely looked at Jim, but walked up to Jim's horse, the notoriously skittish and unfriendly one. The horse remained stock still. "American quarter horse? He's a love." She whispered something in his ear and Jim would swear his horse purred. Could a horse purr?

Jim strolled over and proffered his hand. "I'm Jim West."

"Oh, sorry. I'm Kat Romaine. That's Nadja."

Jim's hat was doffed as he passed off the bundle of fish to Nadja. "Pleased to meet you both. I saw some of your horses as I rode up. Beauties."

"If only someone who could afford them would notice!"

"Maybe you need a new marketing strategy?"

"I'm open to any and all ideas, Mr. West."

"Call me Jim."

"Jim, want to meet my babies?"

"You have very large babies for your size, if I may say so."

"Five inches shorter and less lumpy, I could have been a jockey!"

"I think you're pretty nice just the way you are."

"Stick around town a while and you'll hear just how wrong you are!"

"I form my own opinions."

"You really are a friend of the Sheriff's then. Ollie's a good man."

"A good married man," Jim winked. "Unlike me."

"You should be warned that I am a direct descendant and namesake of Catherine the Great. We're known to prefer horses over men."

"A ridiculous and particularly vile myth," Jim shook his head.

"Truth doesn't matter to most people, Mr. West."

"It's Jim, and it matters to me."

"So what's your truth, Jim?"

"I need a place to sleep and you have one. I can pay, you need the money."

"You are aware that men who visit here die?"

"Only European nobles seeking your hand in marriage. I'm pure commoner and I believe in long courtships before engagement. We should be fine."

Kat shrugged. She pulled him along to see her stock. Every horse had the name of a famed European composer.

"You certainly do like music."

"That might be the only thing I miss about Europe, the concerts."

"New York isn't far up the road."

"Lack of time, lack of funds. Let's go back to the house. I'll show you more tomorrow. Maybe you'll have a brilliant marketing idea to share by then?"

Jim was shown to a well kept bedroom with a down feather bed of surprising quality. He was also given the use of a small private water closet with real indoor plumbing. Not bad, he thought. Certainly more than he expected. He washed up and headed to the living area. No one was to be found. He observed an impressive library full of classics and modern novels in several languages as well as a shelf dedicated to veterinary journals and anatomy books covering both humans and horses. A baby grand piano took up a large part of the footprint of the living area. It looked well used but, like the house, in need of some cosmetic attention. If he played, Jim would have sat down and banged out a tune. Instead, he wandered into the kitchen. Nadja hostilely shooed him out after issuing a stern warning. "Do not lead the Countess astray."

"Astray from what?"

Nadja scowled in response. Jim left without waiting to hear more.

After a few minutes of waiting in the parlor, Kat appeared and walked to the bar. "Vodka or whiskey, Jim?"

"Your choice."

"Whiskey then."

"Not much of the motherland left in you, is there?"

"Why should there be?"

"I've met descendants of the Romanovs before. They all had visions of returning to the glory of the monarchy."

"Even if I weren't sixteen times removed from the throne, I've no desire to live in a gilded cage or be propped up by the labor of peasants. My father fled Russia to save his hide from the wrath of cousin Alexander over indiscretions of a nature I don't even know. It is my father's dream to return to the Continent, not mine. By marrying me off to some European ass, he hopes to gain the ability to live as he did in Russia, but soon all the monarchies will die off. Things will be like here, in America, where a person can succeed or fail on his or her own merits."

"True perhaps for a man, a white man, Kat."

"At least there's a chance for it. Don't you think so? Don't you think there should be?"

Jim inhaled a deep sip of whiskey before he answered. "I fought in a war that freed slaves who are not yet legally considered equals. I've negotiated and befriended many Indians who are not considered equals. There's no good reason for that. I suppose there's no good reason a woman should be different, except there are differences."

"Are there always?"

Jim's eyes cast downward. "I used to think so. It will always be women who give birth, but a woman can be just as hard as any man."

"Or as soft," Kat was by Jim's side with a hand on his shoulder. "You prefer your women soft, don't you, Jim? And docile?"

"I like women, Kat, women of all kinds."

"But you've never married?"

"My life isn't ideal for sustaining that kind of relationship."

"What do you do?"

"I travel a lot on business. I have very little control over where I will be and when. Try explaining that to a wife."

Kat refilled Jim's whiskey as he spoke.

"It's not what you want, Jim, just admit it. You don't want it domesticity any more than I do. Whatever business it is you do, it's that which drives you. The rest is transitory needs and desires, easily met and moved on from."

"You're exceptionally pragmatic, Kat."

"I'm not without feelings, but I'm not about to give up everything that is me be a decoration on some noble's arm or even for a pleasant romp in an attractive man's bed."

"How far would you go to avoid it?" Jim regretted the question the second he asked it. "I'm sorry, Kat."

"No need to be. That's my reality now, Mr. West: Kat and her lethal horse. I really am a fool to think I can escape it." Kat threw her glass into the fireplace.

"Sometimes we just survive things. The ugliness of the war is something no soldier ever escapes, but you learn to live with it eventually."

"Your war isn't over yet, Jim, is it? You are still fighting something."

Jim shrugged.

"Dinner is ready, Countess," Nadja interrupted.

"For the nine-billionth time, Nadja, it's just Kat in this country!"

"Yes, Countess."

Even though Nadja irritated him, at the moment, Jim was grateful for Nadja's appearance. It saved him from getting too personal.


	4. Temptation

Chapter 4 - Temptation

Whatever Nadja's shortcomings were — and Jim thought there were many — cooking wasn't one of them. The fish he'd brought was minimally dressed but cooked to perfection.

"My compliments to the chef!" Jim toasted with a glass of white Bordeaux. You could paint a fence or spend the money on wine. At the moment, the wine seemed the better investment to Jim.

"This is the last of the local asparagus, I'm afraid."

"Too bad, it's delicious."

"I suppose we could convert to a vegetable farm. Do you think my reputation for raising deadly horses would forestall sales of spinach, asparagus and tomatoes?"

"I think you'd die of boredom in a season. That would be a colossal waste."

"I'm flattered you think so."

"Well, that's largely based on Ollie's word and the magic you worked on my horse. I may need to revise my opinion tomorrow."

"Thank you, Jim," Kat said as she rose and approached him. She poured him more wine.

"For what?"

"For not telling me what to do, like everyone else does."

"It's not my place."

"Then thank you for recognizing that." She kissed his cheek. Jim turned toward her and followed up with a welcomed kiss on the lips.

"Countess! What would your father say?" Nadja blazed with anger.

"The only thing my father cares about is living in an apartment in some European capital where he thinks he can float luxuriously on the cachet of being a Romanov at the cost of selling my body to some asshole noble in his ice cold castle!"

Nadja left as flustered as she entered.

"You were a bit harsh."

"The truth is harsh. I trust you can find your way to your room, Jim. I've got to put the horses to bed and have much to do in the morning. Feel free to put your horse in any empty stall in the stables, so long as it isn't next to Schumann's on the far end. I wouldn't want to put you in any danger."

"Of course. Thank you. Goodnight, Kat."

Jim felt both relieved and disappointed. The kiss had been mighty sweet. He hoped for more. He wanted more. He'd even admit to needing more just now. But if was probably for the best. Kat was a handful and a mess. Better to keep a safe distance. Jim took his horse to the stables while Kat wrangled the horses left in the corral. He kept looking back towards her, considering changing his mind, but he gave up the idea of further advances. He was a handful and a mess right now too. Maybe after a good night's sleep, he'd walk away. It'd be the smart thing to do.

Jim slept better than he had in weeks in the soft, downy bed, so much so that by the time he dressed and appeared in search of coffee, he'd missed Kat at breakfast. He found a coffee pot waiting in the dining room along with a covered breakfast tray. He pondered for a minute whether he needed a taster for the food given Nadja's hostility. Nadja's arrival did little to reassure him.

"Mr. West, I must request that for the sake of decorum, you leave this house today."

"Who's decorum?" Jim smiled, doubtful that Nadja would get the joke.

Nadja scowled. "Ekaterina is misguided enough already. You will only make matters worse."

"How?"

"You are not suitable for a woman of her standing."

"On the one hand, this isn't Russia, and on the other hand, what business is it of yours to decide such things?"

"Her father charged me with her care while he is away."

"I can see you care a lot for Kat. What are your hopes for her future?"

"That we can go home someday."

"Is that for you or for her?"

"For both of us. In Russia, women are strong. She could breed horses there. Her cousin would permit her return so long as her father did not come. The king had no cause to exile Ekaterina."

"I see, but clearly Kat doesn't consider that an option."

"For that I blame her father. He has not been truthful with her. If I could just convince her. Maybe you could help?"

"I have no personal knowledge of the situation. Besides which, in my experience the bulk of European royalty are a bunch of lying entitled snakes. I respect Kat's wanting to succeed on her own merits even if I don't see how she can do it under the circumstances. It's awfully hard to make a go of breeding and training horses that kill humans. Or maybe there's an untapped market out there somewhere . . . "

"Mr. West, her future is not a joke!"

"Of course not, but the deaths of three men by her prized horse is a serious impediment to it."

"If you were a beloved horse and met any of those jackals, you'd have done the same as he did."

"I think that Kat could have found a way to avoid marriage to any of them without the help of the horse, or anyone else for that matter."

"She must go home. It is her only real option. Please help me convince her."

"Maybe if she moved out west, changed her name, she could start over? It just might work, you know. I could put her in touch with some folks. I'll have to think about it."

"Mr. West, you mustn't!"

"Or what? A horse will throw me or nudge me off a cliff? Or should I be worried about what's in my eggs, Nadja?"

Nadja stormed out at that. Jim, not reassured, skipped breakfast and went looking for Kat.

He watched her in the corral from a distance at first. She was the definition of happiness in her element. Jim couldn't help being attracted to her then. If that passion translated to humans, oh boy. But it might not, he reminded himself. Then there was that kiss last night. For the first time in weeks, Jim actually felt happy for a moment before Nadja ruined a night with potential.

Jim wandered up to the gate. "May I come in?"

"Better wait until I take Schumann to the stables. Ollie wouldn't forgive me if Schumann hurt a friend. Maybe you should back away a few feet."

Jim complied but kept a sight line to Schumann's eyes the entire time. Jim had never felt true fear at a horse, but he always respected a horse's temperament. That mutual respect had led to good results. As Kat neared the gate, Jim and Schumann locked eyes. Schumann pulled towards the fence post where Jim stood. Kat eyed Jim and let the horse proceed. Jim stayed stock still as Schumann extended his head over the fence towards Jim. Jim whispered something and calmly extended his hand. Schumann let out a gentle nicker and nuzzled his head into Jim's hand.

"It appears we have another horse whisperer amongst us, lapochka," Kat said to Schumann. "Come on in if you want, Jim."

Jim took her up on the offer. She took him a full turn around the horse.

"He's beautiful. You're not selling him?"

"Who would buy a killer horse?"

"I mean, could you have sold him?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he knew you might?"

"I can't focus on that. He's mine to keep and I happily will, so long as I can. But I've got to sell the others."

"How about you go bring some of that stock out here and show me what you've got?"

"Maybe you should wait outside the gate until I come back."

"Sure."

Long before Kat returned, however, Jim was back in the corral and atop an uncomplaining Schumann. They gently trotted the circumference before Jim tested his compliance with commands. His conclusion: this was a prize horse for the right rider. Was it a killer? Jim had trouble believing the animal independently chose to off three men. Jim was also pretty certain Kat didn't want Jim dead. When she arrived with two other horses and saw him atop Schumann, she simply smiled.

She led both horses into the corral and mounted the tall bay. She came into line with Jim atop Schumann and led both horses through a drill of steps and tricks.

"I'm impressed."

"As am I," Kat admitted.

"Let's say we stable Schumann and take the other two to town. I think a little show and tell might help your cause."

"If you think it would help, I'm game."

"That and I'm ravenous," Jim said as he dismounted.

"Nadja was to prepare breakfast for you. Did she not?" Jim instinctively reached a hand out to assist Kat in dismounting from the horse, but she didn't need it or take it.

"She did, but I was afraid of finding cyanide in my eggs."

"Jim, Nadja would never. Don't be ridiculous."

"She wasn't too happy about our kiss last night."

"She has her reasons."

"Enough to poison my eggs?" Jim asked as he moved in to plant a fresh kiss.

Kat couldn't answer without breaking the kiss, which she showed no inclination to do. Jim gently turned her towards the house. "She's watching, isn't she?"

"Maybe it's more interesting to her than dusting," Kat whispered back still kissing him.

"There is that," Jim said as he introduced his tongue into her mouth. After a few moments, he backed off a little. "You practice kissing like this on your horses, Kat? You're awfully good at it."

She immediately pulled away. "That was a low blow, Jim."

"Sorry. It was just a cheap way to stop something before it became too damn hard to stop."

"Who wanted to stop?"

"I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Yes, another decision reserved to the man."

"I'm not saying we — and I mean we — can't revisit it later. I thought selling horses was your first priority just now. But if I'm wrong, by all means, let's resume where we stopped."

"Are you always this insufferable?"

"Artie would say so."

"Who's Artie?"

"A good friend and business associate who usually travels with me."

"Not this trip?"

"No. It's been too long. I miss him, his wit and his wisdom."

"I'm sorry. I have been lonely since I was wrested away from my home and friends, and then moved a dozen times in the course of a few years. Nadja may seem sour at times, but she's been my only constant friend and adviser since our exile."

"Yes, but I know that Artie always has my best interests at heart. Can you say the same about Nadja?"

"I think so."

"She doesn't want for you what you want for yourself."

"She's never discouraged my passions. She just thinks I could go back to Russia to follow them."

"You don't agree?"

"No. The infighting is bad enough, but the truth is that it won't be long before the kingdom collapses entirely. The people want a say in their future, not to be led by inbred entitled despots."

"Elected ones are so much better!"

"Yes, because they can be unelected eventually. The only way to get rid of monarchs is to wipe out the bloodlines. The Romanovs' time is limited. I'd rather build a future here than watch the end there."

"You'd make a pretty attractive package, but for the three dead men, Kat."

"Gee thanks, Jim. I think."

Jim laughed. "I get ornery when I'm hungry."

"Don't we all?" Kat playfully nipped at Jim's neck.

After that it was all business as they rode into town. Jim rode an impeccable thoroughbred, tall, skinny with a grand mane, while Kat rode the beautiful bay. As soon as they came into the town, Jim ostensibly led both horses through a series of maneuvers and tricks in the middle of the street although it was really Kat's whistling commands at work. People in the street stopped and stared. Children and several adults applauded. "If you like what you see, come see me — Jim West — at the saloon in the hotel. There are more beauties where these came from."

Kat bit her tongue. She needed to sell these horses desperately. Besides Jim never took actual credit for their existence or training.

"Do you think they'll be okay tied up outside or should we take them to the livery stable?"

"I'd feel better if they were stabled. They've never been around this many people at once."

"Lead the way, then, without leading that is."

"This is a test, isn't it?"

"Of your desire to succeed, yes."

"You just watch me, then."

"My pleasure."

After they'd deposited their horses, on Jim's dime, Jim asked Kat to meet him at the saloon in ten minutes. He had a brief errand to run. As he entered the Sheriff's office, he saw that business had picked up.

"I know a wall or two you can sleep against, Ollie."

"Jim, good to see you."

"Did you really think I'd be number four?"

"If you get on that horse, yes."

"He was gentle as a pussycat this morning."

"You didn't?"

"I did, after the horse made it perfectly clear that he had no objection."

"What did Kat say when you did it?"

"She sort of caught me in the act, but there were no complaints then."

"So what do you think?"

"Do I think that Kat directed the horse to kill three men to avoid having to marry them and move? No, all it's done is ruin her chances of staying here and doing what she loves."

"A miscalculation isn't quite the same as an alibi."

"Maybe the horse did do it on his own. It's possible."

"You look dubious."

"Let's just say that I've poked the beehive. We'll see what if anything comes out to sting soon enough. I just wanted to reassure you that I made it through the night before I met Kat for lunch at the hotel."

"Kat is in town? Alone?"

"Why not?"

"Better hope that it's mostly visitors there, Jim. She could be in for a hard time."

"Why?"

"Let's just say that between not fitting in with the model of a woman and being suspected of training a horse to kill, the townsfolk view her somewhat akin to a witch, the women being amongst the harshest critics."

"I guess I better hurry back then, although I suspect she's more than capable of handling herself."

"She's not as tough as she pretends, Jim."

"Then I better get going. I'll see you later."


	5. Cracks in the Façade

Chapter 5 - Cracks in the Façade

When Jim arrived at the hotel, he found no trace of Kat there or in the connected saloon. He sat down at a table, ordered some food and watched for Kat. He was considering leaving the saloon when he was cornered by a man inquiring about the horses.

"How many of those beauties are there?"

"How many are you in the market for?"

"As many as four if they are worthy. I'd want to see their pedigrees of course."

"I'd expect no less. The farm is just a few miles out of town. I'll give you directions."

"Hey, this isn't this the place the locals talk about, where the lady raises killer horses?"

"I rode the so-called killer horse this morning. What a bunch of hokum. He was gentle as a kitten. Besides, even if the horse himself was a demon, he's not for sale. Why worry?"

"Yes, but if they were trained to dump a rider or be aggressive, or if it's in the bloodline, I can't take that chance."

"A horse can be trained to do tricks, but I don't think you can train one to be evil. Horses are like people, with good and bad dispositions. The foreigners who rode that horse didn't understand the horse, didn't befriend the horse and they didn't listen to the woman who trained the horse who warned them not to ride him. Does that mean she raises killer horses? The one you watched me ride into town was as gentle as a pony and I'd spent thirty seconds with him before I mounted him. That's quality, through and through."

"I just don't know. It could affect breeding sales down the road."

"Where are you from?"

"Virginia."

"Exactly who in Virginia is going to know anything other than the pedigree of the horse once you own it?"

"I suppose."

"Look, we both know that you've already found what you like and you like it better than anything you've seen so far, so why torture the process with gossip and innuendo that's got nothing to do with what you want to buy? Tomorrow morning, 10:00, you come out and see. Bring your wallet because I guarantee there will be competition present." Jim felt confident as a line of folks were waiting to see him.

Jim tediously repeated the process with each customer. Two hours later, Jim finally left the hotel, still hungry after barely getting three bites of food down while selling the possibility of selling Kat's horses. Where to find Kat was his next problem.

He checked the stables. Chances were good she'd take a horse back, but she hadn't. She had left a message with the stable hand, however. She'd meet Jim back at the farm. That meant she'd opted to walk, thinking Jim might need to show the horses further. She'd put the business first, a good sign of her intentions. Jim stopped by the grocer before he left town and grabbed some apples for himself and the horses. At the fishmonger, he wrangled a jar of fresh cooked clam chowder even though as a visitor he had to pay a hefty deposit on the bottle.

He caught up to Kat resting against a tree in a grassy patch off the road about a half mile from the farm. The tough girl had been crying. "Hey, beautiful, bet you're hungry as I am?"

"Why are you hungry?"

"I was so busy persuading customers to come to the farm tomorrow that I had no chance to eat my meal. It takes a lot of extra talking when they come in having already heard about your killer horse."

"I should never have gone into town. I haven't been for months."

"I shouldn't have suggested it."

"Why did you?"

"Because I like your company. Here, I've got some fresh hot clam chowder. Have some."

They took turns sipping the soup from the jar.

"I don't suppose you persuaded anyone to come out?"

"Any one? No. More like eight, and don't be surprised if more show up when word gets around that they are coming."

"Really?"

"Yes, I'm a very good salesman. I might have to consider changing careers."

"About that, you've never quite said what kind of business you are in, Jim. What exactly do you do?"

"On my best days, I rescue damsels in distress."

Kat rolled her eyes at him.

"You know, they say clam chowder is an aphrodisiac."

"No, they don't. That's oysters."

"Then there must be some of those in here because I feel an overwhelming desire to kiss you." Jim leaned in to give her one.

"Are you always this brazen?"

"I have numerous tactics, some more brazen than others."

Kat stuck her tongue in his ear to show she did too.

"See. It's the chowder. Good stuff." Jim pulled her face into his. She then placed her hand someplace entirely unexpected to Jim. "Oh my. Be careful what you start, madam."

"You're a sophisticated man of the world, Mr. West. Can I assume that applies to your relations with women, being appropriately careful?"

"Never assume anything, but yes, I have the latest protection from France."

"Good, because you are going to need it."

"You sure this is a good idea out here?"

"No Nadja and we'd hear a horse a mile away. I heard you."

"I'm glad you did."

An hour or so later, somewhat disheveled, they finished off the rest of the clam chowder before riding the rest of the way to the farm.

As they stabled the horses and got down to the real work of getting the horses groomed and ready for the morning, Jim frequently checked back toward the house to look for the prying eyes of Nadja.

"Kat, I think it would be best not to let Nadja know anything about what's happened today or what we expect tomorrow."

"Why?"

"Nadja wants different things for you. I don't want her to upset the apple cart."

"She wouldn't ever hurt me like that."

"I'm asking for a little trust."

"I've known her for most of my life. I've known you for two days."

"You trusted me plenty a couple of hours ago."

"I did. By the way, thank you for that. You were . . . extremely generous to me."

"I don't know exactly what you mean, but you're welcome. Thank you too."

"You treated me like it was my first time. You cared about how I felt and responded. That's what I'm thanking you for. It's how I wished the first time had been."

"Youthful experimentation?"

"Nothing so pleasant. A drunk friend of my father's who hosted us for a while. I guess it was all my father had with which to pay him back."

"The bastard."

"My father advised me to just lie there. That that was all there was to it. It would good for me later, because no sophisticated husband like I should have wants a bleeding virgin on his wedding night."

"I'm so sorry Kat. That's not how it should have been."

"I know. I knew then."

"How?"

"I'd read, I'd heard."

"Read what?"

"Madame Bovary, the Kama Sutra, among others."

"Seriously?"

"Well, books are one way. Nadja was another teacher. She's far more worldly than you would guess. Comes from years of her family serving the Romanovs, I suppose."

"I'll bet she was upset at what happened to you."

"I didn't tell her, but she knew."

"At least your father didn't try to marry you off to him."

"He had a wife already or he probably would have."

"I'm glad your father's not here now. I don't think I'd like him much."

"You'd like him just fine. He's utterly charming."

"Not when you know more, he isn't."

"He's just trying to survive in a hostile environment."

"Of his own creation."

"Maybe, but whatever he did to piss off cousin Alexander, father was unprepared for life without a funded estate. We all cope the best we can."

"That's very understanding of you."

"Understanding yes, forgiving less so."

"There's a lot more to you than meets the eye, Kat Romaine."

"Oh, I'm pretty certain that your secrets exceed mine by far, Jim West. If you want me to not tell Nadja, share one with me now."

"I'm not a businessman. I work for the federal government. I track down people who do bad things."

"Like raise deadly horses?"

"If asked to, yes."

"Were you?"

"Not by my boss, no. I'm not here to work. This hasn't been work. Mostly it's been a very pleasant distraction."

"What do you need to be distracted from?"

"My last assignment was difficult."

"Did you get your man?"

"It wasn't just a man. There was a woman too. I knew he was a monster, but I underestimated her depravity."

"Did you arrest them?"

"It wasn't possible."

"I'm sure you did your best."

"I had to kill them both."

"How sad for you."

"That wasn't the difficult part."

"What was?"

"I . . . I can't talk about it yet."

"When you are ready, I'll listen."

"I don't think I want that to be a part of us."

"Jim, who are you lying to? I'm a two or three day dalliance before you move on to another town and another dalliance. But at least now I think I understand why it has to be that way for you." Kat caressed his cheek with her hand. Jim grabbed it and held it tightly in place for a few moments before he released it.

"You've got a lot of work ahead of you to get ready for tomorrow morning. Promise me, not a word or hint about today's goings on to Nadja?"

"My lips are sealed."

Jim couldn't resist planting a kiss on them when they were closed.


	6. Indulgence

Chapter 6 - Temptation

Upon their return to the farm, Kat abandoned Jim to get to work. While Kat was closing up the stables for the night, Jim borrowed the main bathroom and with a few trips to the kitchen for hot water that annoyed Nadja as she prepared dinner, he ran his own bath. Jim was in his room dressing when Kat returned. He headed downstairs to the parlor to wait for her. He could not resist pulling down the book with Sanskrit style writing in French. He chuckled when he opened it and realized what it was. Kat hadn't lied about reading the Kama Sutra. Jim's French wasn't good enough to read the text, but he did flip through it for a minute before the thought of Nadja coming in and seeing him with the book struck him as a bad one. He quickly re-shelved it and swapped it for Dickens "Tale of Two Cities."

As he waited, Jim regretted that he hadn't packed more casual clothes. When he'd left the Wanderer, he'd expected to stay in town. Here, the blue bolero was out of place with Kat's complete casualness. Jim was amused that of the two women, Nadja would be the one to find his attire appropriate. A jacket is easily enough removed, of course, Jim thought. As is everything else. He rued that it was not to be so tonight, the removal of clothing with Kat.

When Kat came downstairs, Jim played it distant and cool. Nadja was observing them through a crack in the swinging door to the kitchen.

"Good evening, Jim. I've let Nadja know that you will be leaving after breakfast tomorrow." Kat had turned into an icicle.

"Yes, I must. I am very grateful for your hospitality."

"It's no more than any decent folk would give. I wish you all the best in your future endeavors."

"And I wish the same for you, wherever they may lead you."

They ate in virtual silence. When Nadja entered to serve or clear plates, Jim noticed that for the first time since he'd arrived, she seemed slightly happy, even gleeful. She was pleasant as she refilled their glasses and presented a cherries jubilee to rival Artie's. Jim thanked Nadja graciously as she cleared his plate. "Kat, again, thank you and Nadja for your hospitality. If I may be excused, I think I'd like to read a little and get to bed early."

"Certainly. Just to let you know, I may go out for an early ride, so I apologize if I am not here to say goodbye to you in the morning when you leave. Even though I know that no one will come to see my stock tomorrow morning, I suppose I should suffer the humiliation of being here at the time advertised."

"Whatever else, you are a fine horsewoman, Kat."

"That means a lot to me, Jim. Thank you. Good night."

Jim washed up and changed for bed. As he read Dickens, he enjoyed the sounds of Kat playing piano — Mozart, Schumann, Chopin — regretting that he wasn't downstairs watching her. When she stopped playing, Jim listened closely for sounds of Nadja exiting the house. She resided in a carriage house behind the kitchen. Jim thought he heard her leave, which vaguely pleased him, but he was making no assumptions. He slept in his usual repose when working, a light sleep with his gun at his side ready for trouble. When he heard his door crack open, he cocked his weapon and pointed it at the door.

"Don't move a muscle or I shoot."

"That wasn't what I had in mind for your last night, but if that's what you think is best, then go ahead." Kat entered holding a small candle.

"What are you doing here?"

"Put the gun down and I'll show you."

"What gentleman could refuse such an offer?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should search me for weapons first, just to be safe," Kat said as she crawled into the bed by Jim's side.

"I'd have noticed Schumann's gait by now if he was here."

"I'm still a suspect?"

"Yes, I probably should search you. Let's start here." Jim examined her lips. As dawn broke, Jim stirred. He'd heard a door open somewhere. He leaned over and kissed Kat. "Kat, it's time to leave. You've got a big day ahead. Everything could change for you."

"Right now, I just want to stay here."

"It won't last. Trust me. Go and seize the day. I'll be nearby to lend a hand when company arrives."

"I'm going to miss you something awful, Jim West."

"You too, Ekaterina Romanov."

"There are five other names in between. Come back sometime and I'll tell you the rest."

"Deal."

"One per visit."

"Temptress."

Kat kissed him deeply and scurried away excitedly. Today, fate would turn her life one way or the other. Today, she could prove all she'd worked for, the single thing that would save her from a future not of her own making. Jim West had helped give her the chance, but she had to make it happen. She hastily washed up, dressed and headed to the stables. She would take a short ride on Schumann to work out the cobwebs before taking on the dirty jobs of early morning. Mucking, feeding, more mucking, grooming. She rode free and wild for several miles before returning home determined and committed to shaking herself free of her father and the motherland.


	7. The Big Day Arrives

Chapter 7 - The Big Day Arrives

Nadja — barely suppressing her smile — served Jim the best breakfast he'd had in two months.

"Glad to be getting rid of me, Nadja?"

"No good would come of you staying longer, Mr. West. Ekaterina needs to accept her circumstances and duty."

"A return to the Russia in your opinion?"

"Would you prefer to see her saddled with an old noble in a freezing castle where she has no say over her life?"

"No, I hate to admit it, Nadja, but you may be right about what is best for her."

"I have always had her best interests at heart."

"But not without consideration of your own?"

Nadja spit in his direction.

"It was not an insult. None of us are entirely selfless."

"My Ekaterina is strong. You are disappointed because she did not fall for your charm as you expected."

"No, she didn't. My ego stings a bit, but I'll move on easily enough."

"She deserves much better than you."

"With you at her side, I'm certain she'll find it."

Jim rose, put on his hat and headed out. He ran into Kat just as she returned to the stables. "Long time, no see. I'm heading out. Nadja couldn't be happier."

"You'll be back by ten, right?"

"I'll be nearby, but I want you to be the one who sells the horses if possible. I'll stay in the background."

"Why?"

"This is your show, your future."

"Don't lie to me, Jim."

"You have to trust me on this. If you need me to help, just whistle. Just know that once buyers show up, Nadja isn't going to be happy."

"Meaning what?"

"Be on guard."

"Of Nadja? She would never hurt me."

"Six weeks ago, I watched a mother threaten to slit her child's throat if I didn't drop my weapon. I didn't believe her. What mother could do that? Even if she could, I reasoned she would agonize long enough for me to hit my mark first. I was wrong. She killed the boy."

"Oh, Jim, how horrible. But Nadja's not a monster."

"Maybe not, maybe so. When cornered, a desperate woman can become a monster. When she realizes that you lied to her last night about my leaving and what's happening this morning, she may crack. My job is to make sure that no one gets hurt as a result."

"Nadja couldn't have been responsible for what Schumann did. She's no particularly affinity with him."

"I hope that's the case, but I think there's a plausible explanation."

"What?"

"If I had those details, I'd have arrested her already. I only know how she observes you constantly. Maybe she's learned more than you think just by watching and listening."

"I think you've gone off the rails, Jim."

"Then why did you lie to her last night about my leaving after breakfast? We never discussed that."

"Because I wanted the night with you and I knew if I didn't throw her off she wouldn't have left us alone in the main house."

"Her affinity with you goes beyond sisterly."

"I know. The things she's taught me under the guise of preparing me for womanhood, I came to understand what they meant to her."

"Yet you let her stay on?"

"Her family has served the Romanovs for seven generations, Jim. She would not leave if told. Nor can I hold the woman's true nature against her, Jim, any more than I can hold your nature against you."

"But if that nature gave her leave to think she could kill three men to keep you to herself?"

"If she had poisoned their food or shot them in the woods, I might give credence to what you say, but through the actions of a horse, Jim? It's not possible."

"I am not faulting you for what actions she may have taken."

"No matter how vile each of those men was to me personally, I would have fled here before I harmed any of them. But if it is true, if you are right that somehow she used my horse to kill them, how could I not hold myself responsible?"

"No good will come of that."

"Nor will any good come of you holding yourself responsible for the life of that child, a life not taken by you, a life you sought to preserve. Yet still you punish yourself."

"If only I'd done something differently."

"There is a famous English proverb, Jim. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride."

"I know it well. Now go sell horses, Kat. Leave the intrigue to me. We'll deal with the fallout if and when it happens."

"Be safe, Jim."

As Jim walked his horse to the front of the stables, Nadja entered.

"Yes, Nadja, what is it?"

"I didn't mean to disturb you, Countess."

"For God's sake, Nadja, it's just Kat."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. It's not you disturbing me, Nadja."

"Is it Mr. West?"

"No, today is either the beginning or the end for me. If no one shows up, if no one buys my stock, I will have no choice but do as my father asks. If I can at least sell a few horses, I would have enough money to consider your proposal."

"Would you, Countess? Would you really?"

"I would rather have some control over my own future than none, so yes. What did you want to see me for?"

"I wanted to let you know that I need to go into town for some supplies this morning, now that we have some money to restock."

"That's something to be grateful to Mr. West for."

"Yes, it is something."

"Then go along. Hopefully, we'll have more money soon."

"Yes, Countess. Is there anything special I can pick up for you? Or do for you in town?"

"Sure, Nadja. Send a boatload of horse buyers this way! But seriously, I do have a thought. There's a man at the hotel who helps travelers book passage. Perhaps you could check with him about options for sailing to Europe before my father returns, the time and the cost. If we are lucky today and someone buys . . . . Well, don't buy too much at the grocers, just in case."

"I would be happy to do so, Countess."

"Thank you, Nadja."

"What horse do you want me to take?"

"It's probably best to take the mule, just in case good fortune comes our way. Desperate as we are for money, I must be prepared to sell any and all of the stock."

"Except Schumann, of course?"

"No one would buy him. They'd be insane to try. And in all faith, I could not let anyone given his past."

"Might I take him? It might be a good idea for him not to be here if any prospective buyers do show up."

"You, on Schumann? You've never ridden him."

"That's true, Countess, but he's never so much as snorted or whinnied near me. He knows how close you and I are. He trusts me just like you do."

"I'd be too afraid for you."

"I want to help you, Countess."

"No, this is too much too ask. I am not willing to risk your life for a sack of flour."

"I knew you felt as I. Trust me, it won't be a risk. You'll see. Let me guide him round the pen a time or two to prove you have need not worry."

"All right, but I don't feel good about this."

Neither did Jim. After having sent his horse ahead of him with a quiet command, he crouched behind the stables and listened to every word. Some of them confused them. Had Kat really decided to go back to Russia with Nadja if she sold some horses? If so, why? Had she and Nadja worked together to dispose of the suitors? On the other hand, Kat seemed genuinely confounded by Nadja's insistence on riding Schumann. Did she know Jim was still nearby and could it have been all just an act to confuse Jim?

While Kat led Schumann to the ring with Nadja carrying a saddle and bit, Jim sidled off to the edge of the woods, observing the two off and on as he circled around to the front of the farm. He saw Nadja mount Schumann with no complaint from the horse. He decided it best to get ahead of her, however, and left without seeing more.

Two miles up the road, Jim West waited beside his horse. At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, he pulled out his knife and pretended to be removing something from his horse's foot. From a distance, it appeared to be Kat riding Schumann, not Nadja. Nadja had been wearing a skirt and peasant skirt minutes ago. Schumann's current rider wore jeans, a flannel shirt and a cowboy hat. Jim was puzzled.


	8. Never Underestimate a Woman Scorned

Chapter 8 - Never Underestimate a Woman Scorned

"Mr. West, what a surprise to find you here!"

"My horse got a pebble in his shoe. It was a bear to get out."

"A bear?"

"It's just an expression that means it was difficult. Where are you headed? And is it my imagination or are you riding Schumann while wearing your mistress' clothes?"

"I'm going in to town for supplies. The Countess wanted to keep all the sellable stock on hand and it was either Schumann or the mule. I do so hate getting my household clothes dusty."

"Well, I'm certainly impressed that you can handle him."

"I can handle a great many things, Mr. West."

"Like unwanted suitors for Kat?"

"Like those, Mr. West," Nadja smiled as she reached towards her neck and brought a small charm toward her mouth.

Before Jim realized what she was doing, Jim's own horse reared up and knocked him backwards into a tree. A gash split open in the side of Jim's head. Jim sank down dizzy as he saw Schumann rear and move toward him while Nadja slid off his back expectantly. Jim's horse reared up in front of him and the two horses parried. Jim passed out and never saw who won.

Jim's head pounded. When he realized it, he was a little surprised because it meant he was alive. That said, he was in big trouble. He was tied to a tree and the job was surprisingly thorough. Each hand had been tightly knotted off before the two hands had been tightly tied together behind the tree. Jim's neck had also been tied to the trunk, so tautly that he could barely breathe. He was far enough off the road that he couldn't see anyone pass and he doubted with his neck bound he could call out loudly enough to attract anyone's attention if they did. Nor did Jim see his horse. Short of breath and woozy, he managed a brief weak whistle to call him, but his horse didn't respond. Jim checked the sky. Soon there should be buyers coming to see Kat's horses. If only he could find a way to attract attention. As he sought ideas, he got dizzy. Jim swam in and out of consciousness for a good while.

When Jim next awoke, he tried whistling for his horse again. He heard his horse snort and saw him come into view. His right flank was bloody with a fist — no a hoof — sized gash. Schumann must have inflicted that. Jim was sure his horse had held his own, though, not that he blamed Schumann for what had happened. He had seriously underestimated Nadja. The only thing that surprised him was that she hadn't finished the job. In fact, it confused the heck out of Jim.

Well, James, he thought, you can sit here and wonder about that or you can try to figure out a way out of this mess. Jim whistled at his horse again, two shorts and a long, the command to him to wait by the road. If someone saw the injured horse, they might look for his rider.

As to effecting escape, Jim unfortunately didn't have his usual selection of weapons on hand. This was vacation after all. He had only the boots. He had no trouble releasing the knife with his unbound feet, but how to get the knife someplace useful was the problem. With his neck tied to the tree his maneuverability was far more limited than it would otherwise have been. He was easily able to scrape the heel of his right boot with his left to loosen it without quite removing it. He slowly and carefully brought his right foot across his lap and when it was close to the tree, he tried to flick the shoe behind the tree near his hands. Damn, he was short. Jim drew in a few shallow breaths and prepared for the discomfort that he knew would come. Without choking himself to death, he needed to rotate his body several inches to the right to get that knife to his hands. During his second attempt, he passed out.

Jim's mind swam in a nightmare world. The austere ridges of the Badlands lay before him. A frustrating search for a brutal killer of three federal agents and numerous others led him to this desolate country. What seemed beautiful at first glance, no longer did. Jim had been hasty and single-minded in his quest. He'd done what he often did, followed his instincts without reservation and without thinking things through thoroughly. Artie was stuck testifying in Tucson and Jim didn't feel he could wait for him lest the trail of Jake Criolla go cold. So Artie wasn't around to knock sense into Jim's head about rushing in like a fool. Artie wasn't around to prepare him with some new gadget that might save his hide. And Artie wasn't around to show up at the last minute and rescue him when things went south.

This time going off half-cocked would cost him. Food was harder to find than elsewhere. Fresh water wasn't in abundance either. The ground was harder to sleep upon. The nights were bitter cold and lonely. Then there were the deadly snakes, violent thunderstorms and blinding and suffocating dust storms. Jim vividly remembered the moment of relief when he saw the tiny house with its wisp of smoke coming out the chimney wafting something that smelled far better than burnt snake. Maybe his luck had changed.

At the same time, Jim wondered about the existence of the house in this desolate place. However, in his haste to chase down Jake Criolla, he'd followed tracks not a map. Maybe he was on the edge of a small town? That thought didn't inspire as much joy as it might have just then. That animal Jake Criolla could pillage a small town in a few hours. Of course, Jake Criolla could be anywhere now. A dust storm the night before had eradicated any tracks of him. Jim was flying blind. He had been pretty down on that fact and himself until the moment he saw the small house. He'd be cautious, of course. Criolla could be there. This could be where it ended at last. Jim snuck up to the house on the side and crept toward the small window on the backside. Inside were a young woman and a child, maybe six or seven years old. No obvious signs of a man were inside, although the shotgun by the door gave him pause. You'd need that out here, of course, a woman and child alone.

Was it cake Jim smelled? His nose inhaled deeply as if smelling were eating. That was a water pump not far from the front door? He called "Hello" from a good distance. "Anyone home?"

The woman opened the door. The shotgun preceded her outside.

Jim's hands were in the air. "Just passing through when I smelled heaven. I don't suppose you might let me drink from your well?"

"Who are you?"

"A fool who took a very wrong turn."

"I'd say so by the look of you. What kind of outfit is that for traveling out here?" She shook her head. "You got a gun?"

"Yes," he pointed to his hip.

"Leave it right there and you're welcome to drink. I'll even fetch you a cup."

"Mind if I ask a question?"

"What the heck am I doing out here?"

"Actually, though I'm curious about that, I was wondering what you are cooking?"

"Snooping into other people's business ain't advisable in these parts, mister, but I suppose telling you it's cornbread is okay. If you behave, I may even let you have a slice. It's been a while since I've had real company."

"I'd be more appreciative than you can imagine."

"I've a pretty good imagination." She sort of grunted and laughed at the same time.

Jim sat down at the table. The cornbread smelled better than it looked or tasted, but it was still better than snake. The little boy and the mother, Elijah and Eliza, could both use a bath, but the house wasn't bad given the location. It was a definite improvement on outside.

"I suppose there's a town near here?"

"You certainly are hoping so."

Again that off putting laugh and grunt. Jim made allowances for it. She was rough looking, but not ugly, and clearly lived a rough life. Manners first, Jim, manners always first. "I suppose so, yes."

"Prairie Dog is eight miles north. Not much of a town, but enough."

"A post office? A hotel?"

"The post comes through once a week. No hotel. A grocer, a smith, a rooming house and a church."

"Not even a saloon? A bank? A telegraph station?"

"Nope. Town doesn't get many visitors and there ain't much money in these parts. Don't think anyone could afford to use the telegraph."

"How far to a real town?"

"Fifty miles or so, west and north, Hay Camp which they are fixin' to change to Rapid City. That's where the money is supposed to be, although from all I hear it's just a lot of filthy old prospectors looking for it."

Jim wondered if that was where Jake Criolla was headed since nothing else close would seem to offer him the things he liked: money that belonged to other people, women and booze.

"Guess I'll head that way next then."

"I ain't got much, but you're welcome to spend the night here and start fresh in the morning. It'll be dark before you could get anywhere near Hay Camp and I don't think you'll find any better accommodations in Prairie Dog. I even have a little whiskey here for special occasions."

"Mighty kind of you." Jim looked at the boy. He couldn't tell if he was docile or terrified. "I might consider it if's it okay with Elijah," Jim winked at the boy hoping for approval. He was weary of traveling on further, even weary of the possibility of finding Jake Criolla until he'd gotten a decent night's rest and a meal that filled his belly. He'd push on if he thought it meant lives saved tonight, but having lost the trail, it seemed unlikely. The boy shrugged. It was good enough for Jim, although momma didn't care for it.

"We don't let children make decisions in this house, mister."

"I just didn't want to make him uncomfortable."

"You let me worry about that. Now, if you want, you can go outside and wash some of that trail dust off before you come back in for supper."

"Much obliged, Ma'am."

As he rinsed outside, Jim looked around and questioned his judgment for the umpteenth time on this trip. "What do you think, Artie?" he asked the wind. It was silly to ask, because Artie almost always chose sleeping under a roof over the stars so long as the accommodations surpassed lice infested flophouses.

Jim went back inside and changed shirts as Eliza ogled him a bit uncomfortably for his taste. Elijah ate his food in front of the fire while Jim and Eliza ate at the table: beans dipped straight from a can. Jim had run out of those three weeks ago and hadn't missed them even if this trek had left him nearly as skinny as he had been during the worst of the War. Still, Jim ate what he'd been given graciously and the beans did improve the cornbread. The whiskey, that threatened to burn a hole in Jim's gut, so he sipped it politely and drank mostly water.

"You're a mighty fine looking man, Jim. Educated too. Why are you out here?"

"I told you, I made a wrong turn."

She brushed her hand against his cheek. "It might not be so wrong." She reached down to his hand and brought it atop her bosom.

"I'm mighty appreciative of the hospitality, Eliza, and you are a lovely young lady, but I feel a bit uncomfortable."

"Not pretty enough for a city boy like you?"

"There's a child in the room."

"I can remedy that. Elijah, git outside until I call you."

"No," Jim said. "I'm sorry, but if anyone is going, it's me. Thank you kindly for the food and water." Jim rose to get up and turned to retrieve his traveling bag.

"Let me at least send you with something for the road then, Jim." As Jim gathered his things and moved to the door, Eliza moved to the kitchenette and cut a piece of cornbread and wrapped it in cloth. Jim headed to the door and opened it. As Eliza handed him the cornbread with her left hand, Jim felt something hard smack in the side of his head.

His head pounded. Jim was immobilized. Nadja. The tree. He was in and out of consciousness. She stood over him dressed like Kat. "Do you think I do not know what you did, you disgusting man? Your scent, your fluids mingled with Ekaterina's on her clothes?"

"You couldn't get the horse to kill me, so now what?"

"I could shoot you."

"With my own gun? You'd have done that already if you had the stomach for it."

"Maybe I will by the time the day is over, Mr. West. Once everything else is taken care of, I will come back to see you. You will pay."

"For trying to help Kat?"

"For trying to take her from me. It was a good effort, Mr. West, I'll give you that. But you failed. We shall be together no matter what. You will never interfere again."

Nadja kicked into his gut, pulling his neck forward tighter against the rope. He blacked out again. When he awoke, he was inside. No. That wasn't right, but he was. Eliza stood over him. The boy huddled in a corner. Jim was tied to a chair, each hand separately tied, his feet too. No, it should be a tree and his feet were loose. His head throbbed. His breath was short. His shirt was gone. His pants were down by his knees. Eliza was naked and pawing him. Jim was repulsed. He tried to move but could only bounce the chair into the wall with Eliza blocking him from the front. She grabbed the whiskey jug and wrestled his chin upwards. He clamped his lips and kept bouncing. She slugged him in the jaw with the jug and he reflexively opened as she put the spout to his mouth. A large flow of whiskey gagged down his throat and onto his chest. Things got fuzzy, then fuzzier. She was yanking at his privates, then she was grinding against him, biting his shoulders and his neck. Jim's eyes caught sight of Elijah, cowed and scared, trembling in the corner. His heart reached out for the boy even as the boy's mother bit into Jim, bounced and cawed. Finally she finished. She knocked him and the chair sideways onto the floor. "Welcome to the Badlands, mister government agent. You ain't never gonna take Jake alive." She kicked him in the gut. Jim gagged up his supper.

Eliza disappeared for a while. Jim's vision remained fuzzy and his brain wasn't all that clear either. Still he had to get out while he had a chance. How to get out was the problem. Jim couldn't get to any of his knives. He tried to right himself and the chair, but his pounding head kept pushing his body back to ground. "Elijah, help me please. Get me a knife."

"I'm scared."

"I know. I'll protect you from her, son, I promise."

The boy checked outside the window for his mother before he dared bring Jim a knife. "Slip the blade in my hand so it's between my hand and the chair. Then go back to the corner as if you never moved."

Jim sawed the rope gingerly. It took a minute before it broke free. He quickly sliced his feet free, wanting their mobility in case Eliza came in before he finished. He was glad he'd done that moments later when she burst back inside. Jim bolted upright, dropped the knife and rammed into her with the chair dragging behind still tied to his left hand. Eliza fell back on to the floor and scooted backwards.

"What a good time we might have had a few minutes ago if you'd shown this fire," she said in that disturbing half laugh grunt.

Jim dove for his holster, a mere foot away atop the pile of his things she'd dumped out and pawed through. Simultaneously, she dove and retrieved the knife. "Just drop it, Eliza. Tell me where Jake Criolla is." Jim had the gun, but he hadn't yet threatened her with it.

"He'll gut you when he gets here, and I'll enjoy watching every second of it. Elijah, come here now."

"No, Elijah, stay put."

"You listen to your mama, boy, or you know what's coming."

Jim pointed the gun at her.

"If there's one thing I know for certain, mister federal man, you ain't gonna shoot me just cause I'm holding a knife. Elijahhhhh!" she ordered in full grunt.

The boy cowered to her side. "That's better."

"I'm sorry, mama."

She put her free arm around his midriff and squeezed before she brought the knife firmly against her child's throat. "Here's how we're going to play this out, mister federal man. You drop that gun and Elijah don't get his throat slit."

"Then what?"

"We wait."

"For what?"

"For Jake to get back here. Should be any time now. He went to Prairie Dog for supplies."

Jim stared into her eyes assessing. "Who is Criolla to you?"

"Jake taught me a long time ago not to answer questions from lawmen. Now, put the gun down or I slice the brat."

"I don't see how that helps you. You kill him, there's nothing between you and me, and I will arrest you. Now, maybe if you want to back out the door and leave him here safely, we can do this more peacefully. You can even take my horse and try to get a head start while I take care of this last rope."

"You're awfully cocksure for a half naked man draggin' a chair."

"It's a fair deal, Eliza."

"The boy goes with me."

"He'll just slow you down. Better to leave him here."

"I should have left him years ago," she grunted as she began to pull the boy toward the door using him as a shield. "Criolla is gonna eat your guts for breakfast soon." In the distance, Jim saw dust kicking up. It was either a bison or a rider approaching. In his current condition, Jim hoped it was a bison.

At the door, Eliza looked outside. She'd noticed the rider too. She turned her head back around, looked directly at Jim West and smiled. "It's been real . . ." She slit the boy's throat, dropped the knife and then ran off the porch. Jim grabbed the knife and freed his other hand. He tried to stem the boy's bleeding with his bare hands but he couldn't. He reached for a towel from the table, but when he turned back, he heard gurgling and saw the boy's eyes roll back in his head. He was dead. Jim fought back tears as he reached down to pull up his pants before giving chase to Eliza.

Outside, Eliza had reached Jim's horse and tried to corral him. She knew she couldn't outrun Jim. What she didn't know was that the horse would not cooperate. Jim whistled and the horse bent his head down toward her and snorted threateningly. She backed up. The horse moved forward in pace with her, still threatening, until she was nearly back at the porch. Jim whistled his horse to stop as he also took stock of the cloud of dust that now clearly was a rider. "Get inside, now."

"Or what?"

"This time I shoot."

"Then I'll miss Jake gut you."

"Yes, you will."

"And I would never get to tell him how I rode a federal agent like a horse."

"That too."

"You ain't using me to catch Jake, mister. So you can stand here and yaw or you can shoot."

Jim had other ideas, but Eliza was a great big problem, no doubt about that. Jim holstered his gun as she began to yell to try to get Criolla's attention. Jim ran out and tried to gag her mouth from behind. Eliza punched backwards into his arms and swung her legs furiously trying to get away. Then she suddenly stopped resisting and went nearly limp in his grasp. "Glad you've calmed down." Jim had underestimated her again, however. She whipped her head back into his forehead, momentarily stunning his already concussed head, then turned and swung at him with a small folding bowie knife. She slashed a shallow slit across Jim's naked chest. Jim backed up and unholstered his gun again. Eliza didn't run, but swiped the knife threateningly. She had no fear of him shooting. She didn't believe he would if he hadn't yet. Three gut shots in quick succession proved her wrong.

As Jim checked back to the horizon, he saw the rider swing away from the house after the shots. Jim hastened to his horse. It ended now one way or the other. There'd be no trial. Either Jake Criolla would join his family in death or Jim would. Jim's mind swam. His head hurt. His heart hurt. That poor child. Jim's bloody chest, his sore loins. This was a mindset of depravity Jim couldn't understand. Jim's rested horse caught up to Jake Criolla's tired one with ease. He and Criolla exchanged shots as the distance closed. Jim felt the breeze of a bullet pass him just before he plugged Criolla and Criolla fell off his horse.

Jim rode up carefully. He'd made enough mistakes since he began this hunt. He wasn't making another. Criolla was rolled up in a ball, blood oozing from his back and gut, but he was breathing. Jim knew as long as he was alive, the danger wasn't over. Jim looked him over carefully but didn't see Criolla's gun. Was Criolla just playing possum? Jim came over slowly, carefully. Criolla didn't move. With his gun in hand, Jim used his foot to roll Criolla on his back. Criolla was bleeding badly. Criolla's gun had been underneath him. Jim hurried his foot on top of the weapon just in case Criolla reached for it. As Jim bent down to pick it up and toss it out of the way, Criolla sprang to a sit and slashed a shallow gash on Jim's right arm with a knife that must have concealed in his sleeve. Jim jumped back out of reach easily.

"It's over, Criolla. Drop it."

Criolla didn't drop it. "It ain't over till I gut you, West." With great effort given the bullet had run from his back out his gut, Criolla hauled himself off the ground and made broad sweeps with the knife in Jim's direction. Jim, though fazed and bloody, was easily able to stay beyond his reach. Eventually Criolla fell back to the ground dying. Jim stood over him, gun in hand aimed, watching the life go out of Criolla even as he continued to thrust upward futilely. When Criolla finally died, Jim roped Criolla to his horse and dragged him back to the house. With the last of his energy, Jim hauled Criolla and then Eliza inside. Afterward, he removed his things and then came back in for the boy's body before he set the house ablaze. His lungs burned from the smoke as he dug a grave for the boy. Jim kneeled on the shallow grave and cried. "I'm sorry. I know I promised. I'm so sorry."

Jim washed his wounds with water from the pump and dressed them as best he could before he retreated to some scrub just out of sight of the house. There he slept fitfully and feverishly waiting for daylight to escape the hell hole of the Badlands.

Jim's head still throbbed, but the nightmare of the Badlands faded into black, although the smell of smoke lingered. It wasn't real. Well, the Badlands were, but it was two months ago. The physical injuries had healed even though Jim hadn't yet shaken the whole mess. Maybe if he hadn't faced it alone? Maybe if Artie had been there, Jim would be coping by now? Who knew? As of now, however, Jim could barely breathe and events were all jumbled in his pounding skull. He couldn't move and the smell of smoke nauseated him. A memory of the Badlands? No. The smell was real. So were the ropes. And the tree. Damn. This was a newer nightmare. His shoe. He'd been trying to get to the knife. It was urgent that he do so. Something had gone very, very wrong and Nadja was behind it, Nadja who had every intention of coming back. She wanted to gut him as badly as Criolla, as badly as Eliza. What her method would be, Jim didn't know, but he knew she would be back. He didn't want to be there helpless when she came.

With his windpipe strangling as he sought to move mere inches to the right, Jim made small halting progress. Jim was on the edge of blacking out again. Where was Artie? I don't care what ridiculous disguise you wear. Just come, Artie.

Moments later, Jim became slightly more aware of his surroundings and his dilemma. He felt the knife against his left hand. He had no way to hold the boot and cut, so he had to strain to move his arms up and down against the knife without knocking it down. Naturally he'd gotten it between his arms so the knife was mostly parallel to the rope. It was slow, slow going as he had to twist his hands to get to the knife. Jim felt almost gleeful when the first of the twined cords broke loose providing him with an extra half inch of slack. He was able to get through the second and then final cord far more quickly, although it came at the price of his breath.

Panting, Jim yearned to rest a minute, but he wanted that cord off his neck more. He wished he'd had on the bolero jacket with the hidden knife. Sawing that cord by his neck with the boot knife was awkward as hell. He nicked the side of his neck three times before the damn rope gave way.

Jim imagined Artie laughing at him, not in a malicious way, but the mockingly sympathetic one. "Oh, the trouble you get in, Jim." Jim was damn tired of trouble. He rubbed his sore neck, dug into his pocket for a kerchief to wipe away the blood that had dripped in his left eye and resolvedly arose. He reached for his gun that lay several feet away on the ground and re-holstered it. He was grateful for Nadja's cockiness in leaving it there. He checked the sun's position in the sky, and determined it was mid-afternoon. He must have been unconscious longer than he thought. He could see smoke to the east and smell it too. He felt relieved that it wasn't from Kat's farm. Kat. Would Nadja hurt her? What was Nadja up to when she took Jim out? Jim had no answers.

Jim whistled for his horse. He came immediately. Jim hauled himself in the saddle trying not to touch the horse's raw flesh. It had been his own horse who'd knocked him out thanks to Nadja, but he'd also defended Jim against Schumann's hooves. What was it Nadja brought to her mouth that did that? Something that irritated Jim's horse as well as Schumann. It had to be a whistle of some sort, one that human ears couldn't perceive. That's how she'd done it. Unleashing high pitches noises near high strung horses. Try proving that in a court of law! Maybe if he brought her in with the whistle, he could demonstrate the effect. Better still would be a confession.


	9. Missing

Chapter 9 - Missing

When Jim arrived at Romaine Farms, Kat was there alone sitting on the corral fence swinging her legs like a little girl bored. Not a horse was in sight. The place was bizarrely silent.

Jim rode right up to her, taking care to make certain it was she not Nadja as he got close. "Jim! Where the heck have you been? I've had the most bizarre and amazing day! Oh my god, you're hurt. What happened? Let's get you into the house and clean this up."

"Not yet. Where's Nadja?"

"I don't know. She went to town this morning for supplies and I haven't seen her since. It's possible she came back and I didn't notice, but I haven't seen Schumann either so I doubt it."

"I go in the house first, and we check carefully for Nadja before we do anything else."

"Jim, what's going on?"

"No talking, not until we are certain she's not here."

Jim checked the house thoroughly with Kat trailing behind him. When he concluded Nadja wasn't there, Jim blockaded the front door with a large piece of furniture. They headed for the kitchen. Jim blocked the back door with a large butcher block table.

"Can I clean this up now? And will you please tell me what is going on?"

"It was Nadja. The dead men. My head. She used some kind of high pitched whistle humans can't hear to irritate the horses. My own horse did this to me. I'm worried what else Nadja's been up to since this morning."

"Oh Jim, I'm so sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

"What is?"

"I tried to trick her this morning, to get her out of the way. I wanted to convince her that selling the stock would be a good thing, that it could finance our return to Russia."

"I know. I overheard. I thought it was pretty clever of you at the time. Unfortunately we both underestimated her."

"What happened?"

"When I left, I waited for her by the road. I faked taking a stone out of my horse's shoe. I thought I'd spend a little time on the road with her and see if I could draw her out more. She took me a little by surprise when she showed up dressed just like you."

"When she left the farm, she was in her own clothes, Jim, I swear it."

"Which raises the question of why she dressed that way? She didn't do it to fool me, I don't think."

"Jim, where have you been all day?"

"Tied to a tree for a good deal of it. What's been going on here?"

"Eight buyers showed up this morning just after 10:00. It took a lot of convincing, but I sold most of the stock to them. Then early afternoon, several other buyers came. Apparently there was some sort of fire at the show grounds. The horses were set free and it was all chaotic. Some of the buyers were directed here as an alternative. I sold out the rest of the stock in no time. Since then I've just been waiting for you to show up, and Nadja too. I couldn't figure out what happened to either of you. In ten more minutes, I was going to saddle up the damn mule to come looking."

Jim suddenly shot his hand into the air, putting his index finger before his lips in the "be quiet" gesture. All was quiet.

"Did you hear something?" he whispered.

"No, what did you think you heard?"

"I don't know. Might have been nothing. Might be Nadja. She was planning to come back and finish me off."

"How?"

"I don't know. She could have shot me with my own gun this morning, but she chose not to. I think she wanted to hurt me more first."

"I don't know that Nadja has ever touched a gun let alone fired one. We've never kept pistols. There's just a shotgun we keep in case of coyotes. It's never been used."

"Maybe she was going to try to have Schumann stomp me to death a second time?"

"Poor Schumann."

"Poor Schumann? What about me?"

"I don't know where he is, if he is safe. You're okay."

"You call this okay?" Jim pointed to his head. Kat kissed the now bandaged wound. Jim raised his shirt where Nadja kicked him. Kat kissed the vivid purple bruise. Jim kissed her lips as she lifted her head. "Nice as this is, we've got serious trouble, Kat. I think maybe we should get out of here."


	10. Artie and His Sixth Sense

Chapter 10 - Artie and His Sixth Sense

Artie arrived in Freehold at one o'clock. Orrin had wired the Wanderer's location and the reason for the delay to Colonel Richmond the day he and Jim arrived in Freehold. As soon as Artie had been released as a witness, he packed a bag and took the overnight train toward New York, before transferring at Monmouth Junction just a few hours ago.

Artie had known Jim West long enough that a passing glance usually told him what he needed to know about his partner's state of mind. The reverse was true too. It's why they worked so well together. But up until the brief meeting in the judge's chambers a week ago, they'd had no face-to-face conversation in the previous two months. When Jim returned to DC from the Badlands, because of the sequestration order, anything Artie knew about Jim had come through Colonel Richmond's summation of Jim's official report. Artie was worried from that alone.

True, Jim did tend to write more terse reports than Artie. However, Jim's accounting of his chase of Criolla in the Badlands was nearly devoid of detail. It was more like "I chased the bad guys. They're dead." It was enough to satisfy Richmond, but not Artie. When Artie inquired about Jim's health, Richmond said that Jim was "fine." He shrugged his shoulders when asked to elaborate.

Artie was very familiar with Jim West's "fine." It was a term that in Jim West's macho vocabulary could encompass busted ribs, infected wounds, concussions and worse. Artie knew the Criolla case obsessed Jim. How could it not? What he'd done to his victims was horrible. Then when Jim discovered Hal Bundy's body and Criolla's challenge, well, that could prey on any sane person's mind. Artie couldn't imagine what Jim's solo chase of Criolla through the Badlands was really like, but instinctually he knew it was bad.

When he finally saw Jim in the judge's chambers in DC, Artie was allowed only a few minutes of polite, contentless conversation with Jim. Jim wasn't about to talk about the Criolla matter then. He didn't have to. Artie knew just by looking at Jim. His partner was as thin as he'd seen him since the War. And that look on his face, that weariness, it worried Artie. Later, when he had some time to reflect, Artie recognized the look: shell shock. Artie felt guilt-ridden that he hadn't been there for Jim. It was just an unfortunate fact that owing to trials and special assignments, they sometimes had to work alone. This time Artie felt it spelled trouble for Jim. He was anxious to see how he could help.

After he checked in with Orrin and learned the Wanderer had been repaired, Artie headed to the hotel in hopes of a late lunch. Like Jim, Artie was told he needed to check his gun with the sheriff.

"Artemus Gordon! Bless your heart," Ollie Mutter said. "You and Jim visiting in the same week! He wasn't expecting you."

"Great to see you, Ollie. Nice town. Is it always this quiet?"

"Quiet? Town is packed. It's the big horse sale today. Almost everyone is at the show grounds now."

"Jim too?"

"Possibly, I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Really? I'm surprised you two haven't been shooting the bull."

"I've been busy and there was no room at the hotel, so he was staying with a family outside of town."

"How far?"

"About six miles."

"That's a long way to go if you're not certain he's there."

"There should be a fine horse show going on now, just one mile west."

"With due apologies to my loyal steed, I look forward to the day where horses are no longer the primary means of transportation. Horses are irritable, bumpy and altogether too smelly."

"There will be lots of good food and pretty women there too."

"Now you are talking my language!"

"If you can wait a minute, I'll head out there with you. My deputy just came on duty."

"My pleasure. Tell you what, I'll go get my horse from the train and meet you back here in five minutes. Much as I would prefer to walk, the streets appear to be a challenge to navigate without peril of smelling like a horse's behind."

"No problem. I look forward to it. And keep your gun. I'll give you a permit to carry while you're in town."

"All right, but frankly I'm just as happy without it. This is vacation, my man, vacation!"

When Artie met up with Ollie on his horse, the two reminisced about the war for a few minutes and talked about the time since.

"How much longer are you going to do this work before you settle down?" Ollie asked Artie.

"Might have to do it forever just to keep Jim straight."

"Seriously? No interest in a wife or kids? I mean, Jim, I get. He's younger, hungrier for action, but you?"

"Truth be told, I'm giving it one more year. It's something my fiancée Lily and I recently decided. I haven't had a chance to tell Jim yet. We've not really been working together during the last two months. Tell me, Ollie, how did Jim seem to you?"

"Funny you should ask that. When he first got to town, he seemed off."

"What do you mean?"

"You remember that look during the War, the 'I've seen too much horrible stuff' look. The good news is when I saw him the other morning, he seemed much more the Jim I remembered."

"I wonder what changed?"

"The friend I sent him to stay with maybe? A very pretty and interesting lady."

"Yup, that's what Doctor Artie usually prescribes for an irritable Jim West. Well done, my man."

As the two approached the show grounds, people and loose horses began to stream in their direction. A thick plume of smoke rose from the stables. Men were hurrying horses out of the non-burning end of the stables as the fire rapidly spread. A water brigade had formed but was losing the battle and would have to retreat soon. Other men were opening nearby pens as, thanks to the breeze, the fire was jumping to the abundant piles of hay everywhere. Patrons began to panic and run toward the road to town.

A young stable hand, singed and dirty, saw the Sheriff and yelled. "Sheriff, Sheriff, I saw who done it."

Ollie Mutter quickly dismounted as did Artie. He pulled the young man to the side of the road, just inside the tree line, to avoid anyone getting trampled. "What did you see, Sheldon?"

"It was that Russian lady, the one that's supposed to be a princess or something that did it, set fire to the stables. I saw her out the window by the far end just before it happened."

"How did you know it was her?"

"I know because I've heard about her and her killer horse. She was with him."

"Describe the woman you saw to me."

"She was wearing pants and a flannel shirt and a cowboy hat. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail."

"Did you see her face?"

"Not really."

"Then how do you know it was her?"

"No other woman in town dresses like that. And that horse. Man, he was something."

"What did the horse look like?"

"Tall, strong, a bay with a white splash like a diamond on his forehead. His mane had this funny plaiting that I'd never seen before."

"Okay, Sheldon, thanks for the information. Now listen closely, because this is important. You are not to say a word to anyone else about what you saw. You let the law check the facts and handle it. If you tell people what you think you saw, they'll start a lynch mob. If you are wrong about what you saw, that'd be on your head."

"But I'm certain it was her."

"Sheldon," Artie said smoothly, "I know what you think you saw, but when something exciting like a fire at a stable starts, we don't always see all the details clearly and the details matter. You've identified a horse and a person wearing clothes like you'd expect to see on that horse, but have you ever actually seen this woman in person before?"

"No, sir."

"Then it is possible it isn't her, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. But the horse?"

"There are a lot of horses on the grounds, not all of them local. Did you notice what every one of them looked like earlier?"

"No, sir. I haven't had time. I've been way too busy working in the stables."

"Right, so let the Sheriff do the investigating with the valuable help you've provided."

"Okay, I guess."

"One more thing, when did you last see either the woman or the horse?"

"They left here right away."

"How long ago was that?"

"About a half an hour ago maybe."

"I want you to go home, clean up and get a good night's sleep, Sheldon. Keep to yourself for the rest of the day as best you can. I'll probably want to talk to you more tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose we should go see if we can help with the fire," Artie said with discernible disappointment at missing lunch.

"Yes. If Jim is here, where would he be?"

"In the middle of the action. I don't see him, though."

"Let's get a little closer. Artie, if he's not here, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Certainly."

"I want you to ride out to the Romaine Farm to see if Kat is there with her horse. If so, keep them there."

"Kat?"

"Countess Ekaterina Romanov. She goes by Kat Romaine in these parts."

"A humble Russian noble?"

"An uninterested one. Horses are what she loves, not titles."

"Someone who loves horses could never set a stable full of horses on fire."

"No, she couldn't. Something about this is very wrong, and if we don't figure it out fast, that kid is going to run his mouth."

"You weren't kidding about lynching."

"Do you know the amount of money tied up in this horse sale? This is a disaster that may resonate for years."

"I don't see Jim anywhere."

"Then take off. Keep going down this road five miles. It's off a small road on the left. There's nothing else close to it. I'll be along as quickly as I can."

Artie was a mile down the road when he met riders coming from the opposite direction. "Might as well turn around if you were looking for stock. We hear she's all sold out. What a waste this week turned out to be!"

"I'm sorry, I'm a little confused. You were going to Romaine Farms, but turned around?"

"Yes, after the fire started and we started to leave, someone was handing out flyers about stock at this farm. We thought we'd see if we could salvage something from the trip, but some folks ahead of us had already turned around to say there were no horses left to be had there either."

"Do you still have the flyer?"

"Yes, here it is." The man pulled it from his pocket and gave it to Artie.

"And the people who told you to turn around, where are they?"

"They were resting their horses up the road a bit. They should be here in a few minutes."

Artie decided to go forward rather than wait. A mile up the road he met two men ambling his way.

"Have you been to the farm?"

One said "yes," the other "no."

"Was anyone at the farm?"

"Yes, a young woman who breeds and trains their horses. Interesting lady too. I was supposed to go there earlier today, but by the time I got there, she'd sold out. I stayed and talked to her awhile, then ran into my pal here coming down the road. My horse's shoe was a bit loose, so we've been taking it slow leaving. Can't afford a hurt horse with no back up coming."

"Hopefully they will have corralled the stock at the show grounds soon."

"I hope so. It's an awful thing to happen."

"Have you seen anyone else ahead?"

"Matter of fact, was. There was a woman riding that way a short while ago."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Briefly, just to tell her that there were no horses left to buy at the farm if that was what she was there for."

"Was she?"

"She didn't say, but I suppose not because she kept going."

"Can you describe her?"

"Nothing special. Funny accent though."

"Her clothes?"

"Skirt, blouse. Nothing you wouldn't find at the general store."

"How about her mount?"

"Now that was special. I offered to buy it on the spot, but she wasn't interested. Frankly, she was downright rude."

"How?"

"She said something like 'you could never handle a horse like this, sir,'. Seriously, I've ridden just about every kind of horse there is. Foolish woman could have had a nice payday."

"The horse, was it a tall bay with a white diamond on its head and a plaited mane?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Wild guess?"

"Yes, well that plaiting is very specific to Eastern Europe if you know anything about horses."

"Thanks kindly for the information, sir."

"Good day to you too."

Artie pushed his horse at top speed the rest of the way. Something very fishy was going on at Romaine Farm. When he got close, he dismounted and moved in along the edge of the woods. He spotted Jim's horse in the corral. There was no sign of the stallion he'd heard about twice now. Artie moved stealthily toward the stables. As he got close, he heard a distinctive snort of irritation. He cautiously peered inside the box through the open panel. The horse neighed threateningly at Artie. Artie jumped back before cautiously approaching again.

He spoke gently in his kindest voice. "You are a beauty. Where's your rider, buddy? Or the both of them maybe?" Artie scratched his head wondering. The house was the next obvious place to check, except Artie smelled smoke close by. He entered the stables by the back door. Once inside, he saw smoke and fire emanating from the left side of the stable several stalls down from Schumann. Artie ran to the back of the stables. He opened the door, darted inside and opened Schumann's stall door getting safely out of the way — moving closer to the fire than the horse — and then ran out behind the horse. Artie then took the long route through the woods to circle around to the backside of house. The hair on his neck prickled. Everything here felt wrong. Stealth seemed a good idea.


	11. Artie ex machina

Chapter 11 - Artie ex machina

Jim smelled smoke. Most disturbing was the fact that it seemed to come from inside the house. "Do you smell that?"

"Yes."

"Let's get out of here."

Jim went to pull the heavy butcher block away from the door. When he turned around, Nadja was in the room holding a knife in Kat's back.

"Nadja, what are you doing?"

"You lied to me. You said you'd go back home with me."

"I said I might. I asked you to look into it. I made no promises. Nadja, the knife is cutting in to me."

"Then you laid with him again, after you pretended he was leaving forever."

"Nadja, please don't."

Nadja whipped the knife from around Kat's back to the front of her neck where it pressed into flesh drawing a bead of blood.

"Nadja, stop," Jim yelled. "Kat only told you what I asked her too. Let her go. I'm the one you want to hurt."

"I saw the sheets. I smelled the bed. You went to him. He was just playing with you, using you. Why did you let him?"

"She can't talk with the knife digging in her throat like that, Nadja. Back it off if you really want answers."

Nadja relaxed her grip a little. Jim's eyes locked with Kat's as if to reassure her that he could manage this situation. The truth: he wasn't so certain after the Badlands. At least Kat was bigger, with more strength than the boy. Just maybe, if they could keep Nadja talking, guessing, he could catch her off balance before she hurt Kat.

"Do you really want the truth, Nadja?"

"Yes."

"I wanted him. Every inch of me wanted to feel his body on mine, inside mine."

"For that, you would give up everything? You fool." The knife came back in tighter.

"I want to stay here. I want to breed and train horses. I've always wanted the same thing. It was others who wanted different things from me. If I deceived you, it was because you could not handle or accept the truth. This was my last chance to make the life I wanted."

"With him, instead of me?"

"No, I have no expectations from him. If you had left things alone, he'd have been out of our lives tomorrow. I would have told you the truth then. I would have been content for you to come with me anywhere, but I do not want you that way, Nadja. I never have. I'm sorry, but it is how I feel."

"Listen Nadja, the smoke is getting thick. We need to get out of here soon. Let's take this outside, okay?" Jim's hand rested on his holster waiting, hoping she might turn away from him for a moment or two.

"The Countess and I are going nowhere, Mr. West. You are welcome to leave anytime you wish."

"Please, Nadja. Let's go outside. Make things right."

"Do you know what I have done for you today?"

"No. Oh, Nadja, what have you done?"

"You gave me hope of returning home if I could get you buyers for your horses. I took steps to send a slew of buyers your way, but of course, it was needless."

"What did you do?"

"In fact, I did nothing. It was you, Ekaterina, you on Schumann who set the show stables on fire. You were seen by a stable boy."

"Nadja, no, how could you? All those horses, the people."

"I had it all arranged. We'd take the evening train and be in New York in time tomorrow to set sail to England, then on to Minsk. I even emptied your father's safe to buy the tickets so you could not delay. But now you have nothing left, Ekaterina, just like me. No where to go. Nothing to live for."

"Schumann, what did you do to Schumann?"

Jim shook his head at Kat. She didn't need to irritate Nadja further.

"Jim, please, leave while you still can."

Nadja dug the knife deeper in Kat's neck. Kat was beginning to gag from the pressure and the smoke. Everyone's eyes were starting to feel the sting of the smoke. The sound of something falling from behind the kitchen door caused Nadja to pivot some. Jim pulled his gun, but didn't have a clean line of sight; besides, his concussed head kept his vision wavering between blurry and double. His hand shook a little. Hadn't he just lived through this? And hadn't he failed then when he could see more clearly? If he waited for there to be no risk to Kat, would he be too late again?

"You'll hit her first, Mr. West, or maybe run the both of us through. There might be justice in that," Nadja laughed and cried at the same time. The smoke deepened her voice. It gave it a similar tone to Eliza's grunt. Jim, ever sturdy and steady Jim, was shaking.

Another crashing noise from behind the women startled Nadja. She didn't turn so much this time, however. It was the fire she set. The house was beginning to crackle and crumble. More sounds got no reaction from her. Nadja appeared to be in a trance, steeling herself to die from smoke or to cut Kat's throat and take the bullets she knew would come from Jim's gun. Another crash was followed by the kitchen door whooshing open. A blur of a blanketed figure came in low from the door and struck upward with a stick at Nadja's head. Impact. Nadja's grip loosened slightly and her body turned inches to the left. Jim shot high at her blurry face, careful to avoid whoever, whatever, had come in low through the door. As blood exploded outward, Jim saw the knife swing back in toward Kat's throat. Both Nadja and Kat fell to the floor. There was so much blood and now so much smoke, Jim couldn't tell what came from whom. Jim could barely breathe, yet he ran to Kat. He felt the slice along her throat, but he was coughing too hard to help her.

"Let's just get her out of here, Jim."

"Artie?" Was it possible that the blanketed figure had been Artie? Jim couldn't process.

"Come on, grab her feet. I'll get her shoulders. Stay low."

Between coughing fits Jim kept saying the same thing over and over. "Artie? Artie?"

"I'm here, Jim."

Jim didn't seem to believe it, however. When they cleared the building, Artie was down on the ground pressing a cloth against Kat's throat. As Jim coughed up smoky phlegm, he stared hard at Artie, finally beginning to believe he was really seeing Artie.

"Jim, we need to stop the bleeding. I need you to focus, Jim. Is there someplace we can find cloths, clean water, maybe a medical kit for the horses?"

"The stables."

"No, they are on fire too."

"Schumann, was he in there?"

"I let him out. I don't know where he is now."

Jim whistled as loudly as his battered lungs could. Jim's horse neighed back from the corral. Jim had hoped Schumann would respond. He tried again. He heard two neighs this time, one from the corral and one from just outside near his horse. "Keep your fingers crossed, Artie." Jim ran to Schumann. He was still saddled as he'd been earlier, with well worn saddle bags on both sides. Jim pulled the bags off and ripped through them. He found a small medical kit for patching up horse wounds including carbolic acid. He took it and then grabbed a bucket in the corral and emptied it. He ran to the pump outside the corral, filled it and hustled back to Artie.

"Artie, how bad is it?"

"I can't tell until I clean her up some. A lot of this blood might be the other woman's." Artie was applying pressure to the wound with his handkerchief when Jim got back. "What did you find?"

"Pretty much anything you'd need to fix a horse's wound and some fresh water. I've got a handkerchief."

"Okay, I want you to slowly pour some water on her neck, right over my hands for now is fine. By some miracle, is there any carbolic acid?"

"Yes."

"Great. How about sutures?"

"Horse sutures. You're going to try those out here, Artie?"

"She won't make it to town alive if I don't."

"Okay, what next?"

"We're going to swap places on three. Keep pressure on the wound while I get ready. If you want to tell me what the hell has been going on while we do this, you may."

"Not now, Artie."

"You're really shaky, Jim."

"I know, Artie."

"The head wound?"

"Some of it."

"The lady?"

"Her too."

"I see that I have a lot of catching up to do. Okay, on my count, you're going to lift my handkerchief. I am going to rinse the wound with water first, so I can see exactly what I am dealing with. Then you come back with a clean cloth and pressure. Do you think you have it together enough to apply carbolic acid to the clean cloth slightly ahead of my stitching while maintaining pressure with the other hand?"

"I can do it."

"Okay, it's by your right hand now, and it's uncorked so you can get to it easily after you get the fresh cloth down. Ready, 1, 2, 3."

Jim followed instructions nearly robotically. Artie calmly applied his tailoring skills to human flesh. Fifteen minutes later, Artie tied a knot. It wasn't ideal, either the suturing job or the use of the horse grade sutures, but the wound didn't seep too badly. The patient was still alive. That was positive. Jim's color and demeanor were less so. "I think she'll make it, Jim. She has a good chance."

"If you hadn't shown up when you did . . .."

"That's what partners are for, right?"

"Artie . . . thank you. I . . . it was a bad situation."

"So I heard, but we pulled through it together like we always do."

"I thought it was going to end just like in the Badlands. It nearly did."

"Jim, I don't know what happened to you in South Dakota, but we're going to talk about it soon. However, now we've got to get this young lady to a real doctor."

"Someone's coming, Artie."

"Jim, you're okay? Kat, oh lord, how is she?"

"I think she'll make it, Ollie."

"We need to get her out of here. Townsfolk are not far behind me."

"How are we going to do that? There's just the one road."

"Get into the woods on the right of the road. About 500 yards in, there's a creek bed. It's pretty flat. It goes just north of town. You'll be able to see the rails when you are close to town."

"She should see a doctor."

"If you bring her into town, Jim, I can't guarantee her safety."

"But it was Nadja who set the fire, not her."

"I believe that, but they won't and even if they did, it wouldn't matter to them. One Russian is the same as another to them right now."

Kat began to stir.

"Jim?" she croaked.

"You'll be all right but you shouldn't talk. You've got stitches in your neck and we don't want them to break loose."

"Nadja?"

"Dead."

Kat's eyes moistened.

"This next part is going to be rough, Kat. We have to go through the woods to get you out of here. Just stay as still as you can. Okay? Just blink for yes, don't try to talk."

Kat blinked.

"I'll get your horse and give you a hand, Jim."

"No, just open the corral and step aside, Ollie. He'll come when I call."

Kat pursed her lips in distress. "Schuuu, Schuu." She couldn't finish the word.

"Kat, we don't have time to worry about your horse," Ollie said.

"I'll get him," Artie said. "You get started, Jim."

"No, Artie, he's as touchy as mine. I'll get him." Jim whistled for his horse. He came and so did Schumann.

"Oh great, a pair of them," Artie huffed.

Jim mounted his horse, took the hand up of Kat from Artie and Ollie and set off with Schumann trailing behind them. After Artie mounted his horse, Ollie held him up a moment. "Here, I found this satchel over by the corral. She's going to need what's in it if she makes it. I'll stay here and throw them off the track, tell them I think both women were in the house. Send me a message when you get wherever you go on that train."

"Will do. Thanks, Ollie."

"Thanks to you and Jim. God speed to Kat."


	12. Harboring Fugitives

Chapter 12 - Harboring Fugitives

The ride was rough. Whereas the six miles walking the horses would have taken an hour and a half, the wooded route took two and a half hours. Jim twice stopped to check Kat's neck. He noticed more seepage from the wound on the first check. On the second, it was a little worse still and Kat was having trouble staying upright even leaning against Jim's back. Jim had Artie tie a rope from under her shoulders around his torso. Even then it was hard to keep her still and upright on the uneven terrain.

Finally the woods began to flatten. The going got faster and easier. When the rails came into view, Jim began to feel some relief. He started to ride up to the rails toward the Wanderer, but Artie stopped him.

"Jim, I think I should get the train off the siding and a bit up the tracks before you bring them aboard."

"I'm afraid to wait longer, Artie. She's bleeding some."

"There's too great a risk that someone may see us or that damn horse getting on the train if we do it in the yard. Maybe if we left the horse behind?"

"She'd never forgive me, Artie."

"Add her to a long list of females, Jim."

"The horse comes, Artie."

"You fall for this one, Jim?"

"Maybe, maybe I was falling. It doesn't matter right now. We need to get her to a safe place and we all know that won't be with me."

"Is that a touch of self pity from Jim West?"

"What if it is, Artie?"

"I . . . I might have to reconsider that you are human, that's what!"

"I've missed you, Artie."

"Same here, buddy. Look, go on a half mile ahead to get clear of town and wait for the train. While you wait, splash some mud on that beast and undo his fancy hairdo if you can. The less he looks like the horse they are looking for, the better."

"Yes, Artie."

"Those are my two favorite words in the world from you, Jim."

"Yes, Artie."

Sheriff Ollie Mutter received a telegraph message two days later. "Arrived safe & sound in NYC. Urgent business required immediate return to DC. Vacation canceled. Small package delivered to post in fair condition. Unable to arrange transit of large package before return. Shall reunite items when possible. Regards, JW & AG."

Aside from doing what was absolutely necessary from the time they'd left Freehold, Jim had gone down for the count. In New York, it was Artie who arranged Kat's hospitalization and after care. It was Artie who deposited her funds and future in the hands of a wealthy and able friend of Lily's. Jim said a private farewell to Kat, giving Artie no true glimpse of what had gone on between them or what it meant. Instead, he got Jim West at his surliest and grumpiest except when Jim slept, which was a lot. Artie had to resort to threats.

"Jim, if you won't see a doctor, I will wire Colonel Richmond that you are too ill to work and that I refuse to work with you until a doctor clears you for duty."

"I'm fine, Artie. It's just a mild concussion."

"What institution gave you a medical degree?"

"The school of hard knocks?"

"Jim, I'm serious. I can't work with you like this. Not to mention that there's no way I'm taking care of the horses on the way back with that other hellion in the stock car. One irritable stallion was bad enough, but two, I can't even walk in that car without fear for my life."

"You know, Artie, if you'd just take a few minutes to try to understand the horses better."

"When you can't even take a few minutes to see a doctor for a concussion? I'm serious, James. If you want this partnership to continue, you see the doctor now."

"All right already, Artie. Jeez."

Artie noticed Jim seemed genuinely taken aback by his threat. He regretted pulling that card so quickly, especially given he was withholding the news that there would only be a year left of the partnership if he kept his word to Lily. Oh, Artie, the fact that you are even pondering that is not good. Lily, the stage, maybe children, he did want those. Nevertheless, it would be hard to leave Jim, especially given how clear it now was that he needed Artie.

The doctor pronounced Jim's irritability and tiredness as symptoms of a moderate concussion that could disappear in days or weeks. So much for reassurance from that corner! At least Jim seemed more himself on the trip back to DC and he did take care of the horses.


	13. Moving Forward

Chapter 13 - Moving Forward

In DC the next morning, when President Grant inquired about Jim's health — even he could see the man was not at his best — Jim flat out lied: "I'm fine." Artie let him get away with it since Jim had managed to remain civil for twenty-four hours straight. Besides, he'd have some more time to recover as they headed to St. Louis hot on the trail of counterfeiters. Maybe on the way, Jim would let Artie in on what had happened in the Badlands. Artie planned to demand a quid pro quo for his silence about Jim's head injury.

"Mr. President, I know time is short, but we've holding a stallion for a friend on the Wanderer, one a little too much like Jim's. It would be a great help if you could find a place to hold him while we are away."

"Schumann stays with us, Artie. End of discussion."

"Well, you see Jim, it's not called a discussion when one person refuses to engage in dialogue about a subject."

"I said it was the end."

"It could be the end of a lot of things if only your way matters in this partnership."

"Now, gentlemen, gentlemen," Grant urged, "I'm sure you can work this out amongst yourselves. I'll be happy to make any necessary arrangements once you agree. Dismissed."

Outside the Oval Office, Jim shot Artie a look he knew well: the intractable one.

"It's just a horse, dammit, Jim. You are going to put a horse above our working relationship?"

"I made a promise."

"It doesn't mean you have to personally care for the horse."

"It does, Artie. I do."

"Explain yourself."

"The horse is all she has."

"She has human friends too."

"Ollie can't stay in touch with her."

"What about you?"

"Keeping the horse safe and waiting for her is the single thing I can do right for her."

"You did come close to falling, didn't you?"

"Leave it alone, Artie. The horse stays until she's ready for us to send it to her."

"Send it to her? Afraid to personally deliver it, Jim? Afraid you won't be able to walk away so easily next time?"

"I always walk, Artie."

"Maybe one day you won't."

"If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride."

"Okay, Jim, but before we get too far along, there is one thing I will insist upon on this trip."

"What now, Artie?"

"I want a full debrief on the Badlands, not that minimalistic crap in your report."

"Sure, Artie, on the way."

As they neared St. Louis, Artie pulled a distracted Jim West aside. "You promised to tell me about the Badlands, the unedited version. You've avoided it long enough. I want it now."

"It's in the past, Artie."

"Not far enough." Artie poured Jim two fingers of whiskey and set it before him. "Now, from the beginning."

"I picked up Criolla's trail in Omaha. He left three people dead there: a bank manager, the sheriff and a young pregnant lady whom he brutally raped before he killed her. Just after I got to Fort Dakota, I found Hal Bundy's body gutted along with a note written in his blood promising more of the same."

"Criolla?"

Jim nodded. "When I found Hal's body, and still had a good trail, I knew that I wasn't going to stop until one of us was dead."

"While it would have been nice to bring that animal in for trial, I don't think it would have been easy in that nasty piece of country."

"No, especially given how I rushed there after him."

"No Artemus Gordon to provision for you, to advise you?"

"I'm admitting it, Artie."

"Oooh, it must have been bad!"

"Fools rush in. It was rugged country and I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. Food and water were scarce."

"What else?"

"Not scarce? Thunderstorms, dust storms, rattlers."

"So what was the bad part?"

"When I thought I caught a break. I lost Criolla's trail in a dust storm. There was nothing, Artie, nothing for miles. Just dust, rock and snakes. Then I found a prairie shack. It smelled of baking. There was a water pump. No signs of a man living there, just a woman and child. I let my guard down."

"Criolla was there?"

"No. From the moment I entered, I was scanning around for any signs of him. It was just a woman and kid."

"Alone in that wilderness?"

"She said it was eight miles to the closest town. She wasn't very talkative."

"Your favorite type."

"She was a bit rough."

"Guess she'd have to be to live out there. So are you going to stop stalling and tell me what happened?"

"She started making advances on me, in front of her kid. I got uncomfortable and decided to leave. She cold-cocked me with something heavy on the way out the door."

"Seems to be a recurring theme: women hitting you in the head."

"It was my horse in Freehold."

"A mere technicality. So what happened when you came to?"

"I was tied up to a chair, a very professional job."

"How?"

"What does it matter? I got out."

"Forgive me for wanting to hear the details. Maybe I could learn something or maybe I would simply be in awe of yet another amazing feat of escape by Jim West?"

"There was nothing amazing. When she went out of the house, I persuaded the kid to bring me a knife."

"Ah, you resorted to charm."

"It was all I had going for me."

"Because of the way she had you tied up?"

"All right, Artie. Each hand was bound separately and then tightly to the chair. I couldn't untie them. Same with the feet."

"Very thorough. That suggests she had an idea of who you were."

"She certainly knew by then. She'd been through my things. She knew I was hunting Criolla too."

"Was she his wife?"

"I never did find out. She didn't say much, except that she was looking forward to Criolla gutting me."

"She tied you up to hold you for him?"

"Yes."

"Seems strange."

"What does?"

"Why would she go to the trouble to tie you to a chair? That's awfully hard work with an unconscious man."

Jim shrugged. "When she came back in, I hadn't entirely gotten untied, but I was able to take her down. The knife was out of my reach, but my gun was just a foot away. I dove for it. She went for the knife. I should have shot her then and there."

"Right, Jim West shoot a woman armed only with a knife. I have a hard time visualizing that."

"I knew what kind of an animal she was by then. But even when she got the boy to come to her, and she held a knife against his throat, I hesitated. What kind of a mother uses a kid that way?"

"A bad one. What happened?"

"I gave her an out. Back out with the boy, leave him behind and take my horse to get a head start. She backed up to the door, then slit his throat before running. I tried to help him, but I couldn't. Artie, when I convinced that boy to give me the knife to free myself, I promised him I would protect him."

"A promise you would have kept if you could."

"I failed him."

"What could you have done differently?"

"I should have shot her earlier. The boy would have survived then."

"What happened to her?"

"She kept fighting and slashing at me with a knife. I finally shot her. It wasn't so hard to do after what she'd done to the boy."

"How could you have anticipated that, Jim?"

"It's my job to know."

"What happened next?"

"Criolla was in the distance on horseback when I shot her. He turned tail and headed away when he heard the shots. His horse was tired, otherwise it might have played differently. I caught up. Plugged him. Even as he was bleeding out, he kept trying to get at me with a knife. He got a few good scratches in before he finally died."

"You leave the bodies for scavengers?"

"I buried the boy. He deserved that much."

"Well, at least you had a roof over your head for a night."

Jim had a faraway look in his eye. "I burned the house with Criolla and Eliza inside."

"That was better than they deserved if you ask me. So when Nadja had Kat by the throat, you were afraid of a repeat? Is that what had you so shaken?"

Jim nodded 'yes'.

"I trust you'll let me know when you're ready to tell me the part of the Badlands story you left out?"

Jim stared off into space. He wasn't ready. He might never be ready. "I missed you, Artie. I missed you out there and I missed you in Freehold. I'm not as good at this alone. Maybe I'm not as good as I ever thought I was?"

"You are, Jim. You've just always put yourself at excessive risk. I'm here to see you work smarter." Artie wrapped an awkward hug around Jim, patting him between the shoulders. Jim surprised him by not pulling away.

Later that night, when Jim was off tending the horses, Artie wired Washington. He wasn't certain why it mattered, but he wanted to know who Eliza was. It could be days or weeks before he heard back, days in which Jim and he returned to business as usual. Three weeks elapsed, weeks of planning, hunting and capturing counterfeiters. Neither agent was discovered or captured. Artie would almost admit it was dull. The dullness was relieved on their last night in St. Louis.

Jim and Artie were enjoying baths in a communal washroom at a hotel before a celebratory dinner. A bellman arrived with a message for Artie, which he read in the tub. Artie smiled just before he returned the message to the bellman to leave in Artie's room.

"What's so interesting?"

"Just kudos to us on a job well done."

Minutes later, as they were entering their rooms on opposite sides of the hall, Artie was interrupted by the bellman with a parcel.

Jim raised an eyebrow in question.

"Personal stuff. I'll see you in the dining room at seven, James."

Jim shot Artie a questioning look, but Artie ignored him. Jim shrugged and entered his room. He trusted Artie with his life. Nothing beyond that really mattered.

After a few minutes, Artie exited his room as quietly as the proverbial church mouse. He returned as quietly twenty minutes later. He opened the parcel and read the cover note.

Artie,

The more I dug, the uglier it was. Here's my report. The world is well rid of these two. Jim should be congratulated.

Regards,

Jeremy

Artie read the report and pawed through the supporting scraps of paper. When he finished, he was grateful that he'd made the arrangements he had earlier. He had no stomach left for dinner.

Jim didn't see Artie at a table in the crowded dining room and not a single table appeared vacant. Jim checked in with the maitre d'.

"Yes, Mr. West, this way."

"I'm meeting with Mr. Gordon. I don't see him anywhere."

"That is the table he reserved," the maitre d' pointed ahead.

Jim saw the back of a woman at the table. "I knew he had something up his sleeve," Jim mumbled. Jim assessed as he approached, but came up with nothing. Dress, pretty hat, brown hair of indeterminate length were all he had from the back. As he pivoted to face the woman, his eyes grew big.

"Good to see you, Kat."

"Hi, Jim. I hope you don't mind the surprise. It was Artie's idea."

"Not at all." Jim sat down. "How are you?"

"I'm . . . the wound is healing well."

"Pretty scarf."

"Yes, apparently I'll be wearing lots of these unless I want to be asked about it by everyone all the time. Mrs. Astor lent me a good supply, a little fancy for my plans, but fine for now. How about you, Jim? How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I suppose there's some trick to that I don't know about."

"Trick to what?"

"Feeling fine after going through something like that."

"Time, a sense of purpose."

A waiter interrupted. "Are you ready to order?"

"Kat?"

"Mrs. Astor told me I should let the gentleman order for me."

"One of those ladies, huh?"

"I'll come back, if you'd like."

"Two of your best whiskeys neat."

The waiter looked surprised. "Yes, sir."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't mean to be ungracious. She was wonderful to me."

"She just tried to turn you into something you aren't?"

"Yes, a lady!"

"You are most certainly that. Perhaps just not ladylike in all respects. Tell me about your recovery."

"As I said, Mrs. Astor was wonderful and kind, but it was almost like Europe again. Let's put the little Russian countess on display and find her a worthy husband."

"When what you really wanted was your horses?"

"Yes, and to her credit, Mrs. Astor did help me. She wrote to a friend in California with a big ranch. She has a neighbor with a horse farm who is willing to give me a try, despite my sex."

"He won't know what hit him."

The waiter returned with the drinks and set them out. "Are you ready to order?"

"Suggestions, Jim?"

"This is beef and pork country. I'm going to have a ribeye, medium rare."

"I'll have the same," she shrugged.

"Salud!" Jim said raising his glass. "To you and your new life."

Kat knocked back a large sip. "I'll be staying with him and his wife. Their son was killed in an accident of some kind. The husband has some sort of injury which limits what he can do and they are having difficulty finding help. It's mostly cattle country."

"They will be lucky to have you. How will you get there?"

"Train."

"And Schumann?"

"Stock car. It's going to be a complicated route, because only some of the trains are mixed passenger and stock cars, but an agent helped me line it up. Depending upon connections, it may take several weeks. I start out tomorrow afternoon."

"I take it that Artie told you Schumann was fine."

"He didn't exactly phrase it like that. I believe he said 'that devil.'"

"He's been an angel for me. It's Artie that is the problem."

"I'm very grateful to both of you for keeping him. I know it wasn't easy or convenient."

"I know what he means to you. Maybe you'd like to go see him after dinner instead of waiting until morning?"

"I'd like nothing more."

Dinner came and they ate without much talking. "Dessert?" Jim asked.

"I'm stuffed."

"Then shall we go visit your friend?"

Kat nodded. As she got up, she pulled a saddle bag from beside her.

"Mrs. Astor would question your choice of evening bag. Allow me." Jim took the bag and placed it on his shoulder.

"Believe me, she did, but I wasn't leaving it behind. It and Schumann are the only things I have left. Besides, I was told to keep my important things with me at all times as a lady traveling alone. Jim, there's so much I don't know about life. I've been more sheltered than I ever realized."

"You'll pick up anything you need fast enough."

"I've never laundered clothes or even washed a dish."

"You've mucked stables, cleaned out food troughs, cleaned and oiled tack. There's not much difference, Kat."

"I suppose."

"It's natural to be a little scared at starting something new. You'll do fine."

They were just on the edge of the rail yard when a man emerged from the shadows just behind Kat. "Don't move or I shoot." He aimed a gun at Kat's neck before he wrapped an arm around her waist.


	14. Artie's Take

Chapter 14 - No to Deja Vu

"I want you to carefully toss your gun to my left and then follow with your wallet and the bag."

"Okay, buddy," Jim said as he slowly pulled out his gun in compliance. "Whatever you want. Just don't hurt the lady or . . ."

"Or what?"

"Just don't."

"Don't give me a reason to."

Jim fully complied. With one hand kept aiming at Kat, the man managed to retrieve the items and place Jim's gun and wallet in the saddle bag. He slowly backed away while still aiming the gun at Kat before he turned to run.

Jim was on top of the man's back pummeling him before he'd gotten twenty yards. Just after the cracking noise of a bone breaking, Kat was pulling at Jim.

"Jim, stop! You'll kill him."

Jim took a few seconds to stop, before he slowly got up. He returned his wallet and gun to their places, and the bag to his shoulder. He took the man's gun and added it to the saddlebag.

"Come on, Kat. Let's go."

"Shouldn't we get the sheriff or a doctor, Jim?"

"We've wasted enough time on him already." Jim put an arm around Kat. She was trembling. "Come on, Schumann's waiting."

Kat's fear and anxiety melted as she and Schumann nuzzled. Jim headed back to the varnish car. Kat joined him a half hour later. Jim had a brandy poured and waiting for her.

"A good reunion, I take it?"

"The best, thank you."

"A toast?" He handed her a brandy.

"To you and Schumann, and your next adventure."

"May there be calmer times ahead, for both of us."

"I'm not sure I'd know what to do in calmer times," Jim said before he sipped.

"Mmm. French."

"I suppose we should be heading back soon. You've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I suppose."

"Or maybe you to need to sit a while after all the excitement tonight?"

Kat nodded and moved to the settee. Jim topped off their brandies by an inch.

"Last I'll have of anything like this for a long time," Kat smiled as she sipped.

"I'm sorry that I didn't have time to try to find something closer for you, maybe in Virginia."

"That's sweet, but it wouldn't have worked out. A girl can get away with wearing pants in the West, I hear, and from some of the unwritten rules too."

"But I'm in the East a lot."

"You say as we sit in the Midwest."

"Details!"

"Maybe you'll come out that way sometime and we'll see each other again?"

"It's possible."

"But just in case we don't, we can say a memorable goodbye, can't we, Jim?"

Jim nodded as he leaned into her for a kiss. There would be no return to the hotel room that night.


	15. Wedding Bell Blues

Chapter 16 - Wedding Bell Blues

The last year of the partnership passed quickly. Jim and Artie worked more efficiently than they ever had before. Jim's impatience that had so often led to him rushing in when planning might have served him better seemed curbed. Jim didn't stop putting himself in personal danger, but if he could do something to shield Artie from any, Jim seemed to take that as a personal goal and commitment.

Meanwhile, Artie and Lily's wedding was being planned for New Year's Eve. Jim was supportive when Artie spoke about it, but otherwise seemed in denial. As far as Artie knew, Jim had made no plans at all for the future.

During the year, Artie received occasional letters from Kat addressed to both of them. He would give Jim the general gist but otherwise leave the letters on the desk for Jim to read. As far as Artie could tell, the letters were never touched by Jim. The last letter, two months before the wedding, reflected Kat's awareness of Jim's remoteness. It was only addressed to Artie.

Dear Artie,

I hope this letter finds you and Jim healthy and happy. After months of hard work, I feel like I am finally being accepted not only by my supportive hosts, but by the local community. Mrs. Astor might have wanted something different for me, but her generosity in sending me here shows her true depth of character. Her friend, though not an ounce less a lady than she, has been a constant ally and supporter of mine. She is treated as near royalty out here, but being in her favor has nothing to do with bloodlines at least. Hell, she even wears pants much of the time, as does her daughter!

Her daughter, oh my, you and Jim would appreciate her. A blonde goddess from head to toe. Headstrong, but distinctly feminine. I have encouraged her to go east, to stay with Mrs. Astor a while, or even visit Washington, DC, because this is a lady who needs a different environment. She can ride with the cowboys, but she will never be satisfied with this simple place. She could do great civic works like Mrs. Astor while adorning the arm of any fine gentleman. If she comes to Washington, I will let you know. Maybe you could see she meets Jim. Maybe she could be his Lily when he is ready for one? One never knows.

Perhaps I could send her brothers with her too? No, not really. But the three of them are such a source of distraction to me. Three such different men, all in competition with each other all the time, albeit in a friendly sort of way. I sometimes feel like a ball being bounced between the three men's attention! Yet if I were to clearly favor any, I fear the effects on the entire family. Perhaps that is why all three remain single beyond the age that most men out here do, still living in the large manor house with their mother! That said, each of them have their charms.

The eldest is both a scholar and a professional. He is charming, noble and exhibits flawless manners. I find his attentions are the easiest to divert, perhaps because he has no great love of horses as do I. Fortunately he takes it all in stride. He too belongs in the city and keeps offices there, but his family loyalty keeps him on the ranch plenty.

The other two, though, are far from citified. The middle child is a cowboy through and through. Much about him reminds me of Jim. Stubborn, obstinate, hard headed, hot headed, opinionated and sexist. Still, so much of it is a show. He is also gentle, thoughtful and considerate. That said, he might be too much a cowboy even for me! Perhaps if he read a book or appreciated music instead of the musician. Oh well, you get my point, I think.

Then there's the youngest. He's the odd man out and yet the lynchpin of the family. He's seen the worst of men in the War, but has retained an essential gentleness and kindness that is hard to ignore. He's also the most free spirited of the bunch. I have enjoyed some hair raising rides with him. He, more so than the others, has made it clear he would like more than just friendship eventually. And though I have held back for reasons I cannot even explain to myself, maybe I am beginning to wear down a little.

I do recognize that the Roberts are giving me a great opportunity here and I am making the most of it. For the first time in my life, I feel competent on my own merits and not just around horses. I have learned to cook, to clean, to shoot, to run a business, all with wonderful help from my host family and my neighbors. I feel so fortunate although there is much I miss about the East coast including Ollie, Jim and you. I also had no idea how much I might miss my books and piano. That said, my neighbors are generous with lending me books from their nice library and a few times — spare time is so rare for me — I have been able to play their lovely grand piano.

I wish I could see a way to make it to your wedding, but with the travel time, I would have to shirk so much responsibility that I cannot clear my conscience to attempt it. I hope you understand and forgive me. Maybe one day you and your beloved Lily will come to San Francisco either on leisure or to perform and I could get away to see you. I would so adore that. I have yet to have a chance to visit that city and would so much like to one day again enjoy a good concert or show. Hopefully by springtime there will be enough funds from the business to hire an additional hand and for me to get a full day off occasionally.

Dear Artemus, I do apologize for this wordy letter. It's just that I don't expect to hear from you for a long while as you enjoy your well deserved honeymoon and I have so enjoyed our correspondence. That and I find myself vaguely envious of your upcoming adventure even though I am doing the work that I always wanted. Go figure!

I would ask about how Jim is coping with your impending retirement, but I think I know. Stoicism. Denial. I just hope for his future that he is partnered with a man half as talented and generous as you. As always, pass along to him my best wishes. Hopefully he will stay in touch with you. You are his bedrock.

With love and gratitude,

Kat

"Cowards, the both of them!" Artie cursed loudly at the end of the latest missive hoping Jim would overhear down the hall of the varnish car. "It would serve him right."

Artie adopted a new strategy with this letter. He left it on the desk after underlining his name as the sole addressee in red ink. Instead of leaving the letter on the outside, he left it on the inside. It was a subtle taunting gesture. Beside it, Artie left a few job postings with a note. "For a stubborn friend." Top of the heap was a position with the Secret Service for a senior agent based out of San Francisco. Not far by train, Artie thought. A senior position in the Bureau of Indian Affairs might either entice or infuriate Jim. Were his feelings on the mistreatment of the Indian nations strong enough to work for the bureaucracy that created so many of the problems but was recently shaken up to try to repair some of the damage? Then there was a posting for a newly created position for developing and managing a professional police force for the growing city of Stockton. Not much subtlety (or likelihood) on that one, Artie reasoned, and placed it at the bottom of the pile. Artie inserted a bite sized piece of paper in the middle of the pile so he could later determine if Jim had moved it. After three days, Artie couldn't conclusively say he had and Jim certainly wasn't discussing it. Artie finally swept it all into a drawer. "I did my best, buddy."

More weeks passed and they returned to Washington. Jim's broodiness was increasingly evident. Artie felt guilty, but there was little to do. He was ready for this change. Jim was not. He might not ever be. President Grant called Artie in for a last briefing before his retirement.

"I won't ever be able to thank you in public for some of the things you've done for this country, Artemus, but I wanted to do it in private. I wish only the best for you and your lovely bride."

"Does that mean you can't make the wedding?"

"No, I fully plan on being there, but you know how it goes. Just in case, I wanted a chance to be certain to talk to you."

"You want to talk about Jim?"

"What's to discuss? He seems content to carry on."

"You can't send him out there alone."

"Does he somehow present a danger to this country by doing so?"

"No, just a danger to himself."

"Are you telling me he is not fit to be in the field alone?"

"I'm saying he'll be dead within the year. He's used to having someone temper his impulsiveness, someone to bail him out when things get hairy."

"I can see he's assigned a trainee."

"Great, then there will be two dead agents."

"Artie, I can't lose my two best agents at this critical time."

"It's always a critical time, Mr. President, but I am telling you that Jim West needs a mature partner he respects or he needs a different job."

"The academy director is retiring this month. Jim could take over."

"I could see him as lead instructor, but not as a paper pusher."

"I can't justify pushing Phillips aside for Jim. If he were right for the director job, I might, but he isn't."

"What about a second training program, based out west?"

"There's merit to the idea, but funding would be a problem."

"I'm sure the budget could be finagled."

"Would he consider it?"

"He might if you suggested it."

"Artemus, if you haven't worn him down in the past year, how can I hope to succeed? He's the single most stubborn man I've ever known, myself included!" Grant laughed.

"Jim's owed nearly three months of vacation and leave. Maybe you could compel him to take it? It'd force him to think seriously about his future."

"You have something specific in mind, Artemus?"

"Personally I would like to send him to California, but there's only so far one can manipulate Jim before it backfires."

"What's in California that is so special?"

"Something Jim might not be ready for. No, I'm sorry, sir, but I've been trying to fit Jim into a mold that isn't him."

"So I should forget this whole conversation?"

"No, sir. Jim is not fit to work alone. I tried to persuade Jeremy Pike to consider it, but he's in the same position as me."

"I've known Jim since he was barely an adult, Artemus. He'll follow orders, but not without liberties. He's not one to be pushed about. So anything I do must be of deep conviction. I think the forced leave has some merit. It would buy me time to locate a new partner for him. We could add the pretext of upgrading the Wanderer."

"I would consider it the best wedding present possible, Sir."

"I think you may be telling me otherwise sooner than you think!"

If Jim was upset about the forced leave, Artie never heard about it — not even the leave itself — before the wedding. Jim was the picture of courtesy and propriety as best man even as Artie saw him withdrawing into himself. Artie never doubted that Jim was happy for him. His failing was that he wanted Jim to be just as happy. And safe too. Artie looked at his bride and sighed. "You can't have it all, Artemus, but you sure have plenty."

As the party wore down and midnight struck, Artie kissed his bride but noticed as he raised his glass outward catching Jim's eye that his partner — former partner — was alone and distant looking. He could have at least brought a casual date, Artie thought. Jim never lacked for a willing woman on his arm. But he hadn't. Curious. If only Kat had made it. Who knows what might have happened? Who will ever know? Artie smiled. He and his bride bid their guests good night and good year. Jim was the last to leave, escorting the two newlyweds to a waiting carriage. After Lily got in, Artie lingered outside with Jim offering his hand.

"Thanks for all your help today. You will keep in touch, won't you."

"Sure. You too, Artie."

"It's been an amazing run, Jim. Do me a favor when I'm gone, please be more careful."

"Rest easy. You don't have to worry about me during your honeymoon. The Wanderer is going in for an overhaul and I'm on vacation and leave until it's fixed and I am assigned a new partner."

"I'll sleep better knowing that. You have any plans?"

"I'm not sure where the idea came from, but since I have plenty of time, I thought I'd go out west."

"Colorado?"

"No."

"Nevada?"

"No."

" Maybe California then?"

"Way to pretend, Artie. I got your subtle hint, or at least one of them."

"Subtle hint? Whatever could you be referring to, James?"

"Let's see. In the last year, you've read Tolstoy's War and Peace, Gogol's Dead Souls, several works of Dostoyevsky and Turgenev. You've been playing Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, and Borodin ad nauseum. Plus you've covered the giant map of the US with that genealogy of Russian nobles of the last few centuries. If that wasn't enough, you started leaving out western job postings."

"Does that mean you missed the German ruler genealogy underneath the Russian one?"

"Artie!"

"What?"

"You are as subtle as a bull in a china shop."

"When dealing with someone bull-headed, subtlety is ineffectual."

"I caught on early, Artie."

"Well, you never said anything."

"I'm the stoic one in the partnership, remember?"

"Right you are. Look, Jim, relax and enjoy yourself for a change. You deserve it."

"As do you, Artie, as do you."

A bracing hug marked the end of a singular partnership. At the same time, it reaffirmed a lasting and special friendship.

THIS STORY CONTINUES WITH APPEARANCES FROM BIG VALLEY CHARACTERS IN "THE NIGHT OF THE RECURRING NIGHTMARE" — TEASER CHAPTER AHEAD!


	16. What's a Little Lie Amongst Friends?

Chapter 17 - What's a Little Lie Amongst Friends?

(Teaser first chapter to the sequel - THE NIGHT OF THE RECURRING NIGHTMARE - guest starring characters from The Big Valley, but Wild Wild West centric)

Jim headed back to the Wanderer instead of the room he let in Washington. He poured three fingers of whiskey and pounded it back. He sank down upon the settee. He shook his head. It had taken a lot out of Jim to lie and conceal so much from Artie this day. That it was the right thing to do, Jim never doubted. Tomorrow, Artie and Lily would sail to Europe and begin their grand tour of the major capitals. They deserved this happiness.

Jim reached into his breast pocket and pulled out two envelopes he'd received that day.

The telegram arrived first thing this morning from President Grant. "Present apologies to Artie for absence. Urgent business. Apologies to you too. Leave is rescinded. Report for briefing tomorrow 11:00 a.m., travel to San Francisco to follow immediately."

Shortly before the wedding, Colonel Richmond pulled Jim aside to explain more. "A counterfeiting ring is increasingly undermining US currency in the West. Based on the high quality of the counterfeit money, suspicions are that personnel connected to the San Francisco Mint are involved. Our men in San Francisco have failed to make much progress, however. The President and I have decided after much consideration that the presence of a more experienced senior agent is required. The Wanderer will remain in your service and will be ready to leave after you receive a complete briefing tomorrow morning at 11:00 a.m."

Jim didn't show emotion to his superiors often, but even Colonel Richmond could not miss the air of true disappointment as Jim attempted to respond matter of fact. "Yes, sir. So goes the three weeks of vacation the President ordered me to take. It'll take nearly that to get from here to there on the Wanderer."

"Sorry, Jim. Maybe your engineer could shave some time off along the way and you could take a day or two of leisure before you start the job? I'm sure the President would understand that."

"It will be too little time, too late, sir." Jim headed to the door.

"Did you have other plans in place already?"

"I had a ticket for the special Transcontinental Express from New York leaving tomorrow afternoon. I originally planned to take the late train to New York tonight or to leave first thing in the morning."

"I'm sorry, Jim. There's no way to advance the briefing and Grant wants you there personally. When is the next Express?"

"Weeks from now."

"How important is this to you?"

"It isn't about me, sir."

"A friend?"

"Yes, of Artie's too."

"Does he know?"

"No, I just learned about it today. I couldn't tell him."

Colonel Richmond understood well enough the serious implication of Jim's curt statement. If he'd told Artie, either the wedding or honeymoon would have been deferred to go to the aid of a friend. "I'll consider the options and get back to you, Jim."

"I appreciate that, sir."

As Jim sat on the settee in the varnish car using alcohol to calm himself after his farewell to Artie diminished by lies, he began to bottom out. If only Grant had just been willing to communicate by wire or even post, Jim could have been in California in just over three days time. The special express train had done the trip in 83 hours the first time. Jim could take care of personal business and still be in San Francisco two weeks before the Wanderer could get him there! Was it so much to ask considering all he'd given to his country?

No, Jim. Stop now. That's how it begins. All I did. What I deserve. How many of the villains did we face began their turn to crime with such thoughts. If Grant wants to do this in person, there's a good reason. Besides, what can I really accomplish at this point, over a week after the fact whether I got there in three days or three weeks from now?

Jim fingered the letter. Opening it was his first violation of trust with Artie that day.

Sure, he'd read Artie's mail before when Artie intended him to read it, like that last letter from Kat. Artie tricked him into that one well enough. He wanted me to see she was moving on. Good for her. Artie's heart was in the right place, of course. He just didn't understand my relationship with Kat. Sure, if she were closer to DC, we would see each other more. Maybe something serious would develop, but if it did, it would just complicate my life and threaten hers. Okay, so I did feel a pang of jealously that three brothers tried to court her at once and one might be succeeding soon. And true, with Artie out of my daily life, I will be lonely. But honestly, Artie, did you think that a week or two with Kat and her horses in California would change my life course somehow? And don't you think you went a little far leaving California job postings right there with the letter? Seriously!

But the letter addressed to Artie that sent Jim into his current tailspin of internal thoughts, memories and self-recriminations was very different from Kat's. It had arrived at headquarters in DC on Artie's wedding day. Jim had just picked up his own mail from his box when an anxious young man waved to him from behind the counter.

"Mr. West, oh, Mr. West, could you wait a minute?"

"What are you doing in the mailroom, Tom?"

"Clarence is out sick today and I was asked to fill in for him. I had no idea what a big job this is."

"This time of year especially. Holiday letters and greetings, budget shuffles, new hires, et cetera. So what can I do for?"

"Clarence had this box of mail on his desk for Mr. Gordon and I accidentally knocked it over. It was a real mess with interoffice messages and mail flying all over the place."

"So what does that have to do with me? I'm certain Artie arranged with Clarence to have his mail forwarded to him periodically."

"Well, I know that Mr. Gordon will be gone at least three months. When I was picking up his mail off the floor, I found this letter marked 'urgent.' I thought maybe you should take it to him. I mean, it could be something that shouldn't wait for weeks to catch up with him."

"I expect Mr. Gordon would have given Clarence specific instructions on what to do with any mail marked like that."

"I suppose, but I didn't see any. I kind of assumed since you are partners and friends that he'd want you to take care of it. Should I just put it back in the box to wait for Clarence to come back to work?"

"No, that's all right, Tom. I'll take it for Mr. Gordon."

The letter was addressed to Mr. Artemus Gordon from a Mrs. Victoria Barkley, postmarked from Stockton, California, and marked _Urgent_. Jim remembered Artie mentioning that name. She was the friend of Mrs. Astor who helped and supported Kat settle on the Roberts' horse farm. The woman with the three sons who Jim knew from Kat's understatement were fawning over Kat. Better chance if you are a horse, Jim had thought before his sense of humor had deserted him. Could it have been Kat's admission that she was beginning to wear down a little? Jim remembered back Artie's warning that she'd be snapped up by a smart rancher. Jim reacted as if it wouldn't matter a whit. Yet now he stood in the mailroom feeling unsettled and worried by a letter he'd yet to open, one that had to be about Kat.

Jim retreated to an empty conference room. He stared at the envelope another minute convincing himself reading it for Artie was the right thing to do. It wasn't hard. Letters marked "urgent" rarely contained good news. Since he wasn't about to disturb his best friend's wedding day with bad news, he decided to open and read it himself.

"Dear Mr. Gordon,

A most unfortunate series of events have occurred of which I felt you deserved notification. Last month, cholera struck the Roberts' ranch. Mr. and Mrs. Roberts and your friend Kat were quarantined. All three were terribly ill and the elderly Roberts both succumbed to the disease. As Kat was gradually recovering, what had already been tragic took unforeseen turns that have left us profoundly sad and disturbed.

When the Roberts were so ill and death seemed imminent, my son, Jarrod, an attorney who performed the Roberts' legal work, notified their official next of kin, a move he now greatly regrets albeit one borne of duty. Asa Roberts, a greedy man from New Jersey, arrived promptly after the funeral to assume ownership of his cousin's property.

The sad fact is that just before the Roberts became ill and subject to quarantine, they had instructed Jarrod to change their will to leave all their property to Kat. Kat was prosperously managing the business and had quickly become as a daughter to them. These papers were awaiting signature and witnessing when the Roberts passed. Jarrod let Roberts know of this before he accompanied Roberts to the farm in the hopes that Roberts would do the morally correct thing.

However, Roberts advised Jarrod that he wished to take immediate possession of the horse farm. He even brought with him someone to manage the farm. Jarrod, with little choice in the matter, escorted them to the ranch. During the ride, he encouraged them to reach an equitable agreement with Kat, given she had resuscitated the farm from near failure after the death of the Roberts' only son. Jarrod even made out a case that while the land belonged to the Roberts, the business run upon it was likely a legally recognizable and enforceable partnership between the Roberts and Kat. However, Asa Roberts was completely dismissive of the idea of a woman running the business.

Upon arrival at the farm, Roberts inspected the stock, caring little about the homestead where Kat was still recovering. Though liking what he saw, Roberts would not budge on his intransigence about Kat. Indeed, Jarrod recalls a specific moment when things turned ugly. Upon seeing Kat's horse, Schumann, in the corral, Roberts and his man reacted hostilely and made vague references and remarks that Jarrod did not understand.

Kat, still weak, dragged herself out to meet Roberts and his associate as they lingered inside the corral near Schumann and another horse. Jarrod introduced them to Kat and — as my late husband would say — all went to hell in a hand basket. Roberts asked Jarrod to show his associate the homestead while he spoke with Kat. From inside, Jarrod could see it was an animated discussion. Jarrod hurried outside when he saw Roberts pull a gun and aim it at Kat. Schumann rose up threateningly toward Roberts. Roberts moved the gun toward the horse. Kat threw herself at Roberts' arm. The gun discharged, fortunately hitting neither Kat nor any horses, but riling both horses in the corral to dangerous edge. Jarrod helped Kat up and out of the corral as Asa Roberts had already fled over the fence.

"You leave my place now, you and that damn horse, or I won't miss the next time. And you better not take a thing with you that you didn't bring with you here or you'll find yourself in jail for theft."

Jarrod urged Roberts to calm down, but Roberts was livid and waving his gun around indiscriminately. Kat prevented Jarrod from further intervention and insisted that she would leave. After Kat asked Jarrod to stay outside to ensure that Roberts did not harm Schumann, Kat went inside to gather her things with Roberts' associate overseeing her packing.

Jarrod attempted to reason with Roberts, but Roberts would have none of it. Roberts insisted that both Kat and Schumann were deadly menaces. Before Jarrod could get any satisfactory explanation, Kat returned outside with her few possessions. Kat begged Jarrod to help her leave without further argument. Kat was so weak still that Jarrod did as she asked for the time being, although not before he insisted that Kat also take the other horse in the corral, Clara, who had been legally purchased by Kat. Roberts allotted them five minutes to clear off the property before he would begin shooting at Kat and her horses.

It was barely time to gather the horses tack, but Jarrod did what he could at Kat's direction. Jarrod helped Kat up on a hastily bridled Schumann while taking the rest of the tack with him. As they left the farm, Roberts fired in their direction scaring the horses and nearly causing Schumann to drop Kat.

When they reached the road, Kat asked Jarrod to leave her alone. Jarrod refused, of course, and insisted on bringing her back to our ranch.

When Kat arrived at the ranch, we let her be for two days without asking any questions. She had relapsed. Audra and I sat with her through a new fever and disturbing nightmares. On the third day, the fever broke and I inquired privately about what had happened. Kat did not wish to explain, but insisted she should leave at once. I was equally insistent that we would not allow that until such time as she was sufficiently well to be on her own. I told her we would support whatever decision she might make but we wished an explanation first, not because we were owed it, but because as friends we wanted to understand and help if we could. The next day, she spoke to the gathered family.

Kat told me you know the whole story in much more detail than she was prepared to share with us, so I won't repeat it here. Suffice it to say that we accepted her word for what happened in New Jersey. The family was prepared to defend and support her. We offered her time to heal and gather herself, as well as assistance in rebuilding a life. Kat was appreciative, as always, and vowed to consider what we offered as she recovered her strength.

That evening the sheriff visited. Mr. Roberts had told him a different version of Kat's tale. Worse, he accused Kat of killing his cousins. Jarrod and I explained to him that the doctor had quarantined and treated all three of them, and Kat was deathly sick as well. That allegation was patently absurd. Then he alleged that Kat's horse tried to stomp him to death. Jarrod denied it, but was compelled to admit the horse had reared towards Roberts as he threatened Kat. The sheriff said he was awaiting information from New Jersey on what happened there and if any charges were outstanding. He agreed he would not proceed further until he received it. He did want to ask Kat some questions about the Roberts possessions, but we successfully put him off until the next day citing her health. That night, Kat slipped out with Schumann.

Heath and Nick tried to follow her the next morning when it was realized, but the weather was dreadful and had washed away any trail she might have left. They returned in the afternoon. Heath wanted to go out again, he was determined to, but then Roberts and his man showed up again with the sheriff. Roberts apologized to Jarrod for his boorish behavior, and professed to want to mend fences as a new neighbor. He wanted to explain.

It turns out that Roberts also owns a horse farm in Freehold, New Jersey. He told us things we hadn't heard from Kat, things we didn't know whether to believe or not, like about Schumann having killed three suitors of Kat. Roberts also asserted that Kat and this Nadja woman were in cahoots in the show ground fire. He cited the investigation of the local paper, discovering that the two women had tickets to leave the country together that afternoon. He also referenced an editorial in the local paper calling for the local sheriff to resign for whitewashing Kat's collusion in the fire even if she didn't personally set it. Apparently Kat and the sheriff were close friends. Roberts said the matter fizzled out soon, since both women apparently died in the fire at the Romaine farm. When Roberts arrived here to find both Kat and her horse alive, Roberts was certain it was proof that the sheriff covered up her involvement.

Obviously we did not know what to make of the whole mess at that point. The Stockton Sheriff was still waiting to receive official information from the Freehold Sheriff to determine anything, although he did feel he had sufficient cause to question Kat. In the meantime, Roberts had added accusations that Kat had stolen jewelry from the Roberts. Well, you can guess how it looked when it was discovered she had left us in the night.

Mr. Gordon, no one who loves horses as Kat does could set fire to a stable full of them. Money would never motivate such a person. Days later, Jarrod obtained the official report from the Sheriff of Freehold. Kat had been exonerated by your testimony and that of a Mr. West. That said, the report also said Kat was presumed dead in the fire. While we are left to wonder what that discrepancy means, our family neither believes Kat could harm the Roberts nor would steal from them.

Nevertheless, Asa Roberts will not withdraw his accusations and has made it clear he will make life unbearable for Kat if she dares return. We are very worried for her. If we could have found some way to help her before she left, know that we would have. If we knew where she was now, or how she was given her weakness, we would see she receives assistance. Alas, we do not, though I doubt she has gone very far with no money or provisions.

I do wonder if you, a man of the law, could help her in some way, or perhaps the "Jim" that she muttered in her fevered dreams if he, like you, is a position to help her? At the least, we felt that you as a friend who led her on the path to us deserved to know what has become of Kat. We are deeply sorry that we could not do more for her.

Sincerely,

Victoria Barkley

P.S. It turns out that some kitchen provisions were discovered missing after Kat left. Someone in my household whom I shall not identify did attempt to stop her departure and, failing that, made certain she had several days worth of food. Some comfort may be taken in that, I suppose.

Jim shook his head as he reread the letter for the third time. Poor Kat. What were the odds? Trouble seemed to follow her. He wasn't surprised she didn't take the Barkleys up on their offer of help. Once word about what had happened in New Jersey got out, there was no stopping the impact, whether the accusations were true or false. By leaving quickly, Kat could take Schumann before any harm came to either of them. If only Kat had been stronger when she left.

The self-recriminations and questions began again. Jim, she said your name in her fever. If I had been there, I might have been able to handle the situation, gotten Asa Roberts to back off his new charges or proven he had a grudge or was an opportunist. But now, at least a week has passed since Victoria Barkley mailed the letter. Would Kat know a safe place to go? Would Kat know how to survive in the wild? What could I realistically do even if I arrive in three days?

Jim visualized Kat, sick for weeks, wasting away. It hurt him physically. And now, whatever little he thought he might try to do for her, duty would forestall him. Maybe if he had explained the situation to Colonel Richmond. He played it out in his head, how he might explain it. In the end, it was a personal matter. Richmond would give him the lecture about how it isn't Jim's job to save every damsel in distress. He was right, of course, but it burned, as did the last two finger of whiskey that preceded Jim's fitful sleep on the settee that night.

Jim reported to the White House the next morning at the appointed time. His eyes were shadowed by a hangover and his shave hadn't gone well either.

"Hair of the dog, Jim?" President Grant proffered a whiskey. "I heard it was a rollicking wedding. Sorry I couldn't make it."

Jim just nodded politely.

"As soon as Bradenton gets here, we'll start the briefing. Jim, I'm very sorry about your plans being altered. I myself would like to try the Transcontinental Express one of these days. Still, we've put our heads together to do what we can so you might enjoy a little time off before you get to work. First, I'm providing an additional engine crew for you for this trip so you can make better headway. Second, all of the major junctions between here and San Francisco are being notified by telegraph to give priority to the Wanderer when you near. You just need to telegraph them this code and have your engineer follow instructions. As for the smaller junctions, if they lack or have problems with telegraph lines, you shall have this order allowing you to pass as a priority. It will slow you down when you have to stop to present it, but hopefully not for long. We can see how the Wanderer fares against the Transcontinental Express. Any time you shave off the normal three weeks it takes to get there is yours to do with as you please."

"That's awfully generous of you, Mr. President," Jim looked over the order with the Presidential Seal affixed. "It's also not necessary."

"One only needs to look at you to know otherwise. Jim, you've been in my service a long time. I will brook no argument on this topic."

"Yes, Sir."

"Mr. President, Mr. Bradenton is in the conference room."

"Let's move this along then, gentlemen."

Two hours later, Jim West headed back to his train for the long trip to California.

At six a.m. that same morning, Lily Fortune who was spooned in her new husband's embrace, abruptly turned toward him. Artie startled awake.

"Time to head to the train already, love?"

"Not quite yet, Artie. Dear, don't you think that maybe we went too far with the letter you left for Jim?"

"It was a dramatic masterpiece. He wouldn't have been able to resist."

"Wouldn't?"

"As we were leaving last night, he told me that he was on leave for three months and he was going to visit California. So Clarence will never give him the letter. I attached a note with specific instructions not to give it to Jim unless Clarence received word from me to do so."

"But don't you feel bad for doing it in the first instance? What Jim would have thought about that poor girl's fate! It was over the top and I should have been more insistent that you tone it down."

"Lil, I've known Jim much longer than you. When it comes to matters of the heart, a sledgehammer isn't too subtle for him."

"I don't recall you ever mentioning Jim having a serious relationship."

"He hasn't. Oh, he's got a rogue's gallery of ladies just this side of the left of the law who will entertain him for spates at a time, but someone to come home to like you, never in all the years I've spent with him."

"Has it occurred to you that he likes it that way?"

"Yes, and I understand the reasons why, but it can't stay that way forever."

"I know dozens of happy bachelors in New York."

"Jim is driven by a sense of purpose and duty, Lil, not self-indulgence."

"It's the job, then?"

"You said it yourself a few years ago, Lil. I remember your exact words. 'It's just that I can't live your kind of life. You'd always be disappearing, or exploding, and well, I'd never know if I was kissing you or some bomb.'"

"I didn't say that to be hurtful."

"I know that. Still, it wounded me," Artie tapped his heart demonstrably.

"So when Jim is ready to retire he can find something like this," Lily smiled and kissed Artie on the chest.

"It's not that simple, Lil. Things happened in the last year and a half that changed Jim. He's vulnerable in a different way."

"And now he's lost his mother hen?"

"I wouldn't exactly say lost, but on a daily basis, yes."

"Still, you can't force a replacement on him. And to be honest, this woman hardly seems the mother hen type unless you're a horse."

"That's exactly the point, Lil. Jim would grow bored in a heartbeat with a gal like that. But matched with someone like you, someone with similar interests, a fierce streak of independence, and who can coddle when it's needed and not just for the sake of it, then there's a match made in heaven."

"I still think you were heavy-handed."

"No, my dear, this is heavy-handed." Artie's hand drifted to a spot that ended all further conversation about his former partner. It was his honeymoon after all.

To be continued in "The Night of the Recurring Nightmare"


End file.
